


Terpsichore

by Sitriga



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Developing Relationship, F/F, French Lemon Tea, Graffiti Artist Tracer, Lemon Tea Maker, Magic, Muses, Widowtracerly, dealing with depression, or something like that, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 164,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13486089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sitriga/pseuds/Sitriga
Summary: Amélie Guillard's accident completely changed her life. She lost too much in one night and the emptiness would only grow, even when she tried to fight it, even when she moved to another country.Lena Oxton is a street artist with a pretty common life in London. That changes when an unknown ginger lady literally lands out of nowhere in her room, in the middle of the night.Emily has a mission, but things are not going quite as she expected. Why does she keep being yanked to that girl in particular...?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This story is so unexpected. It started as a joke: because people can't seem to agree on Emily's eye color, I said I'd make her a shapeshifter, or some other being that changed eye color according to their emotions. The next day I was writing this =D
> 
> If you spot something weird or mispelled, or even something that doesn't make sense, don't hesitate to tell me - English is not my first language, so mistakes may happen. And the French, oh, the French...!
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

 

 

Amélie, Amélie, swirling across the stage like a _plume_ on the wind. Grace and skill incarnated, every movement perfect, every breath timed and joyful.   

Her heart was that of a swan, proud and soft, longing for the beauty of the world, while her mind was that of a spider: meticulous, focused, patient, sharp and letal if needed.

Countless days of training routines, diets, pain and perfectionism were a part of her life from such a young age that one could wonder if she even had a chance to choose what she wanted for the future. Truth was that no one knew that, not even her. However, it was well known that she loved what she did: that breathtaking woman with eyes like liquid gold gave it all for her art and flew on the arms of it for a long, lovely time.

Still, it came to an end on a rainy autumn night. It took everything with it - her future and ambitions, her joy, her love, all wrecked like the car she had been in with her sweetheart.

No more stolen kisses between her training routines, or worried comments if she'd overdone them;

No more dancing for the crowds or the sound of applauses;

No more Gerárd Lacroix;

No more Amélie Guillard.

As the rain fell down and mixed with blood, she looked at the empty road without really seeing it and thought that her life was over, and it was such a pity she wouldn't be able to perform next week on the season's premiere. She trained so hard for it…!

It was such a pity.

As she left the hospital a month later with a slight limp in her walk, several pins in her bones and a shattered career, she still thought that her life was pretty much over -  but at least she'd probably find sweet Gerárd on the afterlife soon, if that sort of thing really existed.

She withered under the archways of her family estate, no money in the world capable of bringing the joy back, no friend or family enough to push her back to the sun. They couldn't do anything, as they didn't know what was inside and she wouldn't show them.

Grey and dull was her life, every day closer to Gerárd. The swan of her heart was hurt and killed, and now the beauty of world was unreachable.

Amélie, Amélie. Didn't she know _she_ was the beauty of it as she locked herself inside, unresponsive to anything…?  


 

\--

 

Lena woke up so startled it took her a moment to realize she was safe in her room, away from the things that were plaguing her dream. Something hit her bed hard and fell, she was sure of that. The surprise was actually what it happened to be: a person, more specifically, a woman.

A woman that was having a sort of fit on the floor.

“Bloody hell!” Lena stood up too fast and almost tumbled back to bed, managing to lean on it and steady herself. “what do I do?!”

“ Give me… a moment…” the woman replied, her voice a hushed and painful tone.

“ _Oh my god, okay…!_ ” Lena passed a hand through her hair, gaze fixed on her unexpected visitor, eyes wide as plates.

The woman looked like she was panicking or something, from the little she could see in the dark of her room. Lena didn’t want to talk and scare her, sending her further down into the episode - and she didn’t know what to say, anyway.

The moment that followed was a tense one, where the only sound was that of heavy breathing.

“...You people… feel too much…” the woman finally whispered, sighing, her muscles relaxing with the motion. “Too much.”

“I will t-turn on the lamp, okay?”

Lena slowly went to her end table and turned the lamp on with a click. The room was engulfed in a dim light that finally showed more of the woman laying on her back and staring blankly at the ceiling. She was ginger - her hair laid wildly on the floor - and she wore a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans and most importantly, was really, _really_ beautiful. Her face was long and delicate, freckles adorned her cheeks and nose and the eyes were of such a crystalline blue, impressively smart and deep. Lena just stared for a moment like a fool with her jaw dropped.

Those eyes slowly turned away from the ceiling and into her direction, studying her.

“Who are you…?”

That snapped Lena out of the infatuation, if only by the irony of the question.

“Wait, you just appear out of thin air, crash into my room  and I’m the one to hear that? Oh no lady, I’ll have you tell who you are first!”

She hummed an acknowledgement and looked away. Her expression gave nothing away. She didn’t speak for the next half a minute and Lena was becoming restless.

“Are you gonna say some--”

“Its Emily.” She said, abruptly. “My name’s Emily. I’m sorry I… _landed_ … into your room. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Then what was?”

Emily sighed. “I was headed for a friend’s house. I don’t have a clue what brought me here instead.”

Lena frowned. “What _are_ you? Last I checked people don’t go teleporting into somebody’s house.” Something occurred to her and she stiffened, her warm brown eyes going wide again.  “You a witch?”

“Not at all. Damn, how do you survive with senses this strong…?!”

“What? You… you need anything down there luv? Aren’t you feeling better yet?”

Emily slowly shook her head, denying, and closed her eyes. She took a slow, deep breath and released.

“Sorry. Good bye.”

Lena suddenly had the urge to look away from her and at the door, to see if it was closed. When she looked back, Emily wasn’t there anymore.

“What the… oh _fuck_ , I knew I shouldn’t have drank so much.” She mumbled, grumpy, and laid down again. She was drowsy and all the alcohol on her system worked fast, before long the brunette was sleeping again.  


 

\--

 

Lena woke up on auto-pilot, as it usually happened that time in the morning. She took care of hygiene and dragged herself to the kitchen, groaning because breakfast was mean and wouldn't make itself. In that drowsy zombie state she almost missed the glimpse of movement on the living room, but caught it on the corner of of her eye and almost jumped out of her socks.

A woman was sitting on her couch. The same woman from the night before.

"Blimey, you're not a dream!" Lena shouted and brought a hand to her chest, her heart pounded against the ribcage like a startled bird.

"A dream? Cheap call, huh?" Emily smiled and Lena's stomach dropped - her smile was like spring and clever things, and the brunette just had to be super enticed by those damn dimples...! "...Breathe, darling."

Lena felt her cheeks burning and shook her head, totally distraught. "W-what the fuck, why are you in my living room?"

"Because staying in your bedroom while you slept seemed to be absurdly rude." The ginger leaned her head on her hand, amusement dancing in those bright blue eyes.

"That's not what I meant!"

"I know." She paused. "What I told you before still holds. I don't have the slightest clue... I try and try, but everytime I materialize, it's on your room."

"Fuck." Lena rubbed her eyes and messed with her hair, pacing around. "Look... Emily, wasn't it? If you'll keep on appearing here I'd really like to know at least what you are. And if you're gonna, like, need food or something, because I'm broke, let me tell you right away."

She chuckled. "You're adorable."

Lena didn't think she could blush even more, but there she was. "S-stop changing the subject!"

"I'm not. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I am. No need for food or anything, really."

"Right... but really, what are you? Try me, you may surprise yourself. I mean, my best friend is a gorilla scientist..."

"A gorilla? Oh, I'm tempted to ask about this one but darling, weren't you getting ready to work?"

Lena froze, horror clear on her face as she remembered her primary goal and ran to the kitchen, shouting an impressive list of insults at no one in particular. Absorbed into doing the chores as quickly as she could, Lena barely noticed Emily was gone when she passed by the living room again, heading for the door.

 

\--

 

It was close. A couple of minutes later and she'd have gotten herself in trouble for arriving late again. Lena wasn't exactly an example in punctuality, but at least she was better than Hana - her Korean friend used to play games into the dead of night and beyond, and as a result she was always late to work and virtually unreachable before ten o'clock, when she started making coherent noises and listening to simple commands.

Lena put on the uniform and apron, took a quick look at herself in the mirror - hello deep shadows under her eyes - and headed to the counter. Another half-day boring herself to death in the coffee shop.

Time flew while the place was filled with workers; Lena enjoyed seeing all the sorts of people that walked by and imagining what their stories should be, why they were so sleepy, distraught or happy. It gave her ideas, and she scribbled them on every piece of paper she could grab and wasn't important.

A really cool-looking omnic caught her eye that morning. They stood out amongst the usual crowd with the bright red paint of the markings in their face, and it reminded Lena of those flame patterns older custom cars used to have. She made sure to go take their order and tried a little conversation, which earned her some side-eyeing, but she really didn’t care anyway - she couldn’t believe this sort of prejudice still existed on that century and refused to be intimidated by it. After all, who cared if they were machines magical in nature and no one actually knew how they were alive? They were people all the same.

The workers would come and go, however, busy with their schedules. The coffee shop was empty and boring then, and whenever she could she'd grab a sketchbook and work on the ideas from earlier. It was in one of those breaks that Hana took a peek over her shoulder and let out an amused whistle, almost making Lena jump.

"Look at this pretty babe! Who's she? I don't think I saw a woman this pretty here today."

"You almost made me ruin it!" She scoffed, trying to hide the sketchbook on reflex. "Don't do that!"

"Oh c'mon Lena, let me see! It's not like I didn't see you drawing _nastier_ stuff before." Her tone dropped to a more malicious tone and Lena blushed violently at the memory.

"Urgh Hana! It was once!"

"Hey, not judging!" The girl raised her hands in a peace gesture "you have fantasies pressing naked girls against walls, it's ok, I get it, it's a very sexually-orien--"

"FINE, fine I'll show you, just stop saying this out loud!" Lena almost begged, looking around frantically. It didn't seem like anyone else heard them.

She then sighed and extended the sketchbook. The bust of a gorgeous woman laid there in pencil, drawn in the rushed lines that were so characteristic of Lena's work.

"Wow, her eyes look so alive." Hana commented, a certain awe in her tone. "You're so talented, Lena."

"Thanks" She mumbled back, observing her work. She didn't know who that was, not really - the face just popped on her mind and she had to draw it, but she was glad she did. It was a really pretty woman. "Think I'm gonna clean the tables a bit."

Lena just didn't want to have to show the drawings she made on the weekend, to be honest, specially because there were some other NSFW stuff and she didn't want her friend teasing her for it. What could she do if she liked girls so much she had to draw them and their lovely anatomy, the sexy smirks, the hot poses...

"Now that's interesting."

She accidentally threw the cleaning product back as she was startled by the sudden sound. Emily was behind her, sitting in one of the side tables and looking around with curious interest.

"Are you following me?!" She practically squeaked.

"I guess? I just wanted to materialize when you weren't home to see what happened and turns out I'm not appearing on your room _per se_ , I'm appearing where you are." She frowned. "So technically yes, I'm following you even if I don't want to."

"That's grand." Lena sighed, defeated. "Wanna order something, since you're here?"

"I have no money, sorry." She offered a sympathetic look. "But I can leave if you want."

"No, I have a better idea. Why don't you tell me what the hell you're trying to do and we figure out why you're unwillingly stalking me? Go on, I'll pretend I'm taking your order." She took pen and paper from a pocket on the apron and waited.

Emily looked at her for a moment, unsure where to begin, then her expression shifted to a surprised one and she stood very still.

"Emily...?"

"I'm trying to decide what is it that I'm feeling right now, one moment..."

"uh..."

"Are you an artist?" She took a deep breath. "Definitely. Definitely an artist."

"Ok that's enough, explain!" Lena hissed, crossing her arms and staring at her in anger. "Or I'm really gonna call the plods!"

"The what?"

"The police, woman, _urgh_!" She threw her arms in the air, frustrated. "By Earhart's grace, I'm gonna throw you out on the street if you don't answer me!"

"Ok." For the first time Emily looked troubled. "I'm a muse, Lena."

"What? Oh, you gotta be kidding!"

"I said you wouldn't believe me."

"No, go on, _do go on_." She replied, sarcastic. "I wanna know the rest. You're a diva like Beyoncé, too?"

Emily rolled her eyes and pressed two fingers to her temple.

"First: divas and muses are _very different things._ Second: I did visit her once or twice." Her tone was harsher. "Look, we're not physical beings like you. If I'm here today... it's a special case, and I'm wasting time standing here while I should be after my goal--"

"Oh, the door is right over there!"

"-- _still_ , there must be a reason." She shot Lena an annoyed glance. "Things like that - being stuck like that -, don't happen by chance."

"...So?"

"So what?"

"What are you gonna do about it? Will you, like, inspire someone to find the answer to why this is happening, oh muse?"

Emily opened her mouth to give her what would be, undoubtedly, a sharp reply, when Hana shouted from the counter.

"Oh Lena, stop hitting on the costumer and get your lesbian ass over here, we need you!"

"Sod off, Hana!" She shouted back and pointed to the ginger. "You. Stay here, I'll be back."

Emily merely raised an eyebrow to her tone and looked away to the window. It was a gloomy morning outside, very few people walking on the streets, but it was better than let the cocky brunette boss her around like that.

At least the unexpected break would give her time to order her thoughts in a coherent manner. She'd need to have everything sorted and explained if she really was somehow bound to Lena.

The ginger was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't see Lena come back to her table with pie and a cappuccino, but differently from her, she didn't jump in surprise when she noticed her presence. She just  stared at her, then at the food.

"...I told you I have no money."

"Yeah, this one's on me. Can't have you just hanging around here not drinking anything, we'd have to throw you out. Oh, don't´look at me like that" She added "I still want the truth, Emily. If that's your real name."

"You have waited all your life to say that, haven't you?" The ginger grinned, cynical, leaning her head on her hand.

"Ugh, you're insufferable!"

"Am I? Noted." She upheld the grin "Now, on the subject of being a muse... Listen, we're spirits. We're there to help people create stuff and in turn, we feed on the surplus energy spent on the process, because you humans feel so strongly you can't hold it all inside. Why do you think people who bottle up are the ones that have the ugliest breakdowns?" She paused, raising an eyebrow for effect. "But we don't do miracles, darling, we make suggestions. Sometimes you listen and have ideas; sometimes you don't and it's fine too. We're usually helpers, enablers, mediators - We'll put a song on the radio while you listen so you'll find that last missing piece that prevented you from starting to write your novel, we'll make you bump over a person we think will help you study for that science test you've been dreading since the beginning of the month, but it's your choice to turn off the radio or apologize and go on your way without asking for help.”

"This all sounds really nice, sure, but how do I even know if it's true? I mean ok, you disappear and reappear and that's not something you see everyday, but then again we're in a world full of magic and there has been all sort of weird stuff around--"

"Hush, darling, I'll show you. Your friend over there, she's a gamer, right? She aims to be a pro one day."

"Sure, but--"

"Take her for a walk with you when you're out of here today. There's someone she should meet."

"Uh... ok? There may be a problem because Hana is sedentary as fuck, but..."

"Buy her something, then. Sweets, maybe?"

"How do you know she likes them?!" Emily just pointed to the counter, where the asian girl was shamelessly playing on a handheld console with three pockys sticking out of her mouth, focused on 'raising her APM', whatever that meant. "Oh."

"Do it then we'll talk, deal?" The ginger finally took a sip of her cappuccino and immediately opened her eyes wide from surprise. "God, that's so good!"

"Oh yeah, they're nice..." Lena giggled.

"No, you don't get it, I..." She trailed off looking at the pie, then she took a piece of it. "woah, that's really good too!"

Lena frowned. "I did bring you good stuff luv, but you talk like you never... wait. Oh god, have you ever eaten before?"

"No." Emily chuckled. "I didn't even have a _body_ before, Lena."

"Fuck, I think that's too much for me, Emily. Honestly."

Lena sighed, passing her finger through her hair, and Emily nodded, sympathetic.

"I understand. Well, I'll finish here and leave you to your business, how does that sound? We'll talk later, after your walk with your friend."

"Ok." Lena shrugged. "bye, I guess? Oh, wait, I thought of something. If you go on giving suggestions to people, why don't you give me something wild to work with later?"

Emily gave her that amused smile with dimples that stunned her before, and she had to use a lot of self-control not to do it again this time.

"Deal. Let's see if you catch the hint."

With that, Lena nodded and walked away.

"So, did the flirting work?" Hana asked as she passed by the counter, her mouth still full with a pocky. "Will she go out with you?"

The brunette didn't even bother on replying that, going to the storage room.

Hana shrugged. "Guess not…”  


 

\--

 

It was surprisingly easy to convince Hana to go with her to the place where she'd be working that afternoon. Lena just had to let her record it to put on her Youtube channel later.

They headed to Lena's apartment to eat and get the painting equipment(Paint cans and mask, mostly), stored it all on a backpack and were off before 3pm.

Hana would never understand how her friend could use a bike as transport in a city as big and dangerous as London, and she wasn't even mentioning the point of being an absurdly physical activity. The sore muscles and sweat...!

Now she was used to it, but the first time Lena gave her a ride on the back of the bike she got really impressed by her stamina. That tiny dork brought them from her house to work and didn't even get tired, even though she carried someone else with her.

Now they went to a neighborhood a bit far from theirs. Hana watched as her friend talked with two men about the work she'd be doing, wrapping up the last details, and they gave her part of the payment. At a point they looked at her as Lena asked if it was ok for her to record and Hana waved and chewed her gum, making a ball.

"Ready to start here, Hana" Lena almost sang, shaking some cans of paint.

"Okay, Camera's ready." She pointed to the handheld camera atop a tripod stand and pressed a button, running to the front of the recording area. "Heeeello my beautiful friends! This is D.Va" She blowed a kiss for the camera "and today's off-game video will be something a bit different. Here I am in the streets of London with my friend Lena--"

"Tracer!"

"Hm?"

"Name's Tracer." Lena giggled. "Told ya, right? I couldn't just sign my name."

"Oh true. Well, we'll edit this bit out later." She waved dismissively, then got a bit closer to the camera. "Here I am with my friend Tracer..."

Lena didn't know if she was supposed to do anything, but waved and smiled quite gingerly.

"...and she kindly let us drop by to see her doing rad street art in this dull grey wall. Would you give us insight on your process?"

"Oh!" Lena raised her eyebrows in surprise but nodded regardless. "Sure, let me grab the sketchbook, hang on..."

"Ok, cut!" Hana shouted and went to press stop on the camera. "You did great, Lena! You didn't even stagger!"

"Uh... really? I was caught off-guard there. You really want to know how I do this? I thought it was only about the graffiti itself..."

"Oh don't be shy!" The girl winked, giggling. "It's interesting and gives a whole new depth to the final product."

"Wow, you really know what you're doing, right?"

"Of course I do, silly!" Hana laughed, amused, and messed with Lena's hair. "Now let's see what you got there."

Hana grabbed the camera from the tripod and brought it closer to them in order to show the sketchbook. Lena procceded to show them the sketches for the painting she'd do - two rollerskaters gliding in intertwining patterns, energy ribbons trailing behind them. - and the color studies and notes, all while she explained them and said how she'd go from that to a huge wall. Then it was time to actually start the work there.

With the camera back on her previous, stable place, Lena started marking the wall with lines, angles and pointers, then she moved to rough sketches and a first layer of paint. The korean girl occasionally made questions, but she knew better than to disturb an artist working.

And what a work it was shaping to be. If Lena was better at advertising her stuff, Hana thought, she'd be quite well known out of that part of the city.

The tiny woman painted a part of the energy ribbon in a bright green tone, totally focused. She loved doing it - the drawing, the painting, the finished piece. To make a little piece of that grey city colorful and alive was a fulfilling thing and made her very happy.

It felt almost as if she was flying again. Few things did that - at least when she was sober.

The work had a palette of greens and yellows for each of the rollerskaters and white as a base color. Lena was almost done with the sharp lineart when an idea struck - what if she put roses on the trails of light? Roses for one and lilies for the other, in swapped tones... yeah, that could work!

She finished the lineart and grabbed the green and yellow cans again, changing the caps on them to ones built for details. Green lilies outlined on yellow light, yellow roses on the green one, petals flying away and turning from lines to solid colors. Then she signed her name on a corner and stepped back to look at her creation.

Perfect. It was really perfect.

"Woah girl, you nailed it!" She heard Hana say behind her and turned, taking out the mask and gloves. "That's awesome!"

She laughed and wiped some sweat drips from her face with the back of her hand. "Thanks! Did you enjoy it?"

The brunette said that while looking at the camera, and Hana winked for her in an approving gesture.

"I'm sure they did!" Hana herself turned to face the camera, showing a huge smile. "And that was it for today's video! Like it? Don't forget to subscribe! Love, D.Va!"

Then she went and hit pause, sighing satisfied. "Boooy I'm sore from sitting there the whole time! I'm not complaining though. Why did you never call me to see you doing this before, Lena?"

"Well, I..."

The sound of someone clapping picked their attention and they both turned to see a huge black man in an impeccable suit coming with a warm smile on their direction. One of his hands was complex and robotic, probably animated by magic, as far as those things used to go.

"That was an impressive performance, ladies." He praised, taking a little bow. "Really good art and a really good showgirl." He tilted his head. "Promising, both of you... And I do have an eye for those things."

"Have you been here the whole time?" Lena frowned. "Because that would be cre... Hana?"

Her friend was frozen, her skin pale as milk, making small incomprehensible noises.

"Hana, can you even hear me...?"

"He's Akande Ogundimu." She managed to say in a strangled voice.

"My, so you know me. What an well-informed girl." His smile became broader.

"But I don't." Lena blinked, confused, looking from one to the other. "What's going on here?"

"May I have your names, miss...?"

"Oxton. Lena Oxton." She raised an eyebrow. "and she's Hana Song"

"It’ss a pleasure to meet you, sir!" Hanna finally snapped out of the frozen state and almost jumped to shake Akande's hand. "I never thought... wow!"

"Nice to meet you too, Hana. What's happening, Miss Oxton" he looked at Lena with amusement. "Is that I'd like to see more of what you two can do in your respective areas. Here, take my card." He produced two rectangular cards from an inner pocket on his suit. "Call and tell my assistent your names, she'll make an appointment. Now, if you excuse me, I have somewhere I should have gone at least an hour ago."

Akande laughed and shook his head, giving them the cards and walking away. Hana waited until he was out of sight and started screaming like crazy.

"Oi, what's all that for?!" Lena protested and in turn Hana threw herself on her, hugging her. "H-hana, what?!"

"That man is Akande Ogundimu, Lena!" She repeated. "He's one of the big names of the entertainment industry and he wants. to. SEE US! OMG!"

"Wait, really?!"

"yeah! I can't believe you've never heard of him, you dork! He was a famous fighter named Doomfist until he lost his arm... nothing, really?!"

Lena shook her head.

"You're hopeless!" Hana finally disengaged, grabbing her camera and tripod. "Get your stuff, let's celebrate!"

Lena didn't quite grasp why Hana was so happy yet - sure, the man was powerful and wanted to see them, but that didn't mean he would hire any of them on the spot...! -, but say the word celebration and she's up for it, no matter what. Any excuse to get drunk and possibly get a girl was a good excuse for her.

"Got somewhere in mind, D.Va...?"

 

\--

 

Sunset painted the sky in tones of red, orange and pink as they were getting close to the pub Hana chose. They crossed a bridge and Lena was finally complaining about the extra weight when she came to an unexpected halt midway to the other side.

"Ow! Hey, mind your passengers!" Hana complained.

"That woman... Oh my god, that woman's gonna jump!"

" _What?_!"

The brunette was already jumping out of the bike and running for the railing when Hana finally spotted the woman standing on the edge of the bridge, dark and long hair dancing on the wind.

"O-oi, lady, don't do that!" Lena was almost getting to the woman when she turned and faced her, surprised.

"Don't come closer!" She warned, her voice shaking.

Lena stopped immediately. "Ok, got it, just don't jump!"

They just stared at each other for a moment. The woman had stunning golden eyes that studied Lena and an expression that gave nothing away, as if she had lost the ability to express anything but sorrow.

Hana didn't dare to approach them and cause a tragedy - she'd be more useful on the sideline at the moment, taking care of the bike. Lena was the one with the hero syndrome, anyway.

"What do you care...?" The woman finally said, and the artist noticed her accent was foreign- probably french? -, and her voice was soft as velvet, although torn in that situation.

"What do you mean 'what do you care?', no one should go around jumping off of bridges!" She put her hands on her waist, frowning. "Besides nothing is really lost, you know? There's always a different way we may not see at a given time but will discover eventually. And all the places to be, all the food to try and people to love... Would you want to miss that?"

"There's nothing for me." She replied dryly and looked away to the sunset.

"Not true, luv!" Lena's tone was soft, as if she was talking to a lovely child. "You can come with me and we'll have fish 'n' chips then a milkshake! Or, if you're not into that, we could go watch a movie, what do you say? Maybe sit on a park and just enjoy the view... "

" _Stop_." The woman sighed and shook her head, still not looking at the brunette. "Stop trying to cheer me up. There's nothing left to do. Nothing for me..."

" _Ne fais pas ça, araignée du soir. Vous êtes aimée_." (Don’t do that, evening spider. You are loved.)

The woman turned so fast she almost lost her footing, but managed to hold on the railing and look utterly surprised at the newcomer. Lena also had the same gobsmacked expression.

It was Emily. She managed to appear out of thin air unnoticed again, this time amongst them. _How did she do it?!_

"Would you join me, Amélie?" The ginger extended a hand to the woman. "It's too pretty a night to let yourself go like that."

Amélie looked like she had seen a ghost, but still obliged. She slowly went back to the safe part of the bridge, with Lena helping her out, and took Emily's hand.

"Who are you...? Why... Why do it feels like I know you?" She whispered

Golden eyes found blue, and Emily gave her a bright, completely happy smile.

"That's because you do, _chérie_ . Not in the way you'd expect, but you do."  


 

\--

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slyly95 helped me a lot with French, - Thank you so much! =D  
> Also Yossarian and Jrade, thanks for beta reading!

It was a strange situation they were in. Emily knew it was foolish to expect anything but silence from Amélie and it still made her anxious to see her words dying down on the empty street. She wanted her to understand... She needed it.

That wasn't at all how she had pictured meeting her beloved Amélie Guillard.

"...So you're a muse." Amélie finally whispered, golden eyes watching the way on auto-pilot.

"Yes."

"And you're here because of me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Emily hesitated. She knew that question would surface eventually, but it wasn't a really comfortable one. She kicked some pebbles and took a breathe before answering.

"Because it pained me so much to see you like that. You... you're better than you think, Amélie. I just had to try to talk to you."

Amélie tightened her eyes at these words. "And what did you possibly think you'd accomplish by that?"

There was no anger on her voice, no accusation or annoyance. There was nothing, in fact, and it was probably worse like that.

"...I don't know."

"Oh but you do." For the first time Amélie turned to face her,  golden eyes studying that freckled face. "You're just afraid to tell. Or ashamed."

It was true, but Emily hid her surprise under a defiant mask and stared back at her. Under the waning light, her eyes looked silver and somehow brighter with resolve when she replied.

"Gerárd wouldn't want this for you, _ma belle._ _That_ is what I know."

That was the wrong thing to say and Emily knew it - she knew what it would do to Amélie, and when the woman grabbed her by the shirt and towered over her with cold fury in her expression, Emily just held her place.

If something like that was needed to bring something out of Amélie, then so be it.

" _Ne t'avises pas de lui parler comme si tu le connaissais!_ " Amélie hissed.

" _Mais je le connaissais._ I was there when you first met on that party. I was there when he first saw you dance and when he took the courage to ask you out." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I have been around you for some time, Amélie, and I know you need to talk about it. That's why I'm here. I care."

" _Je n'ai pas besoin de ton attention, de ta pitié ou de quoi que ce soit de ta part._ "

"I know." She shrugged. "But you can have it anyway. It's your choice."

"Disappear."

"Very well. Would you just consider doing something for me before you end your life for good, then?" Emily said it in such a natural way that even Amélie raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Too bad." She stopped walking and turned to face a man standing with a violin and an amplifier at the other side of the pavement.

They were in a street full of pubs with a lot of space to walk. Amélie didn't notice where they were going before that, it didn't matter, but now...

Unaware of their presence, the man finished setting up, put on a background track and started playing. It wasn't a classical rendition of a pop success or one of the classical pieces people tend to know but can't name; it was something else, intimate and emotional.

The bow hit the strings with mastery and produced a sad melody that told a story: it started in a relatively quiet way, a winter morning in the forest, the violin accompanied by a single other on the track on the amplifier. Then the musician played a long sequence of quick notes and someone was running, searching, looking to the sides desperately as if to find a way. The track built tension, metal instruments started joined in, the seeker desperate to find something they could never reach on that snowy forest. A heavier use of the bow and the violin cried for the misfortunes of men, lost hope, broken hearts, and Amélie saw herself crying with it.

After months of feeling detached the emotions just flowed out: she sobbed, cried and let herself be hugged by that strange woman with eyes like the moon. She hid her face on the corner of her neck, feeling weak and sad, guilty hovering over her like a dark cloud, and she thought it was better to be dead than to feel that weight crushing her soul - Amélie carried the sadness of the world in her chest and it was open again, bleeding out in the most painful manner.

"I..." She sobbed.

"Hush, _cherié_." Emily replied softly, stroking her hair. "Cry it out. You need it."

Amélie hated it, but she was right. The emotions took over her like a typhoon and she simply cried and cried until the music, the street, the colors, her whole perception of being was gone.

Emily stood there and didn't let her go until she asked for it. She smiled and nodded, proud of her dancer, then she took a step back in a respectful manner.

"You're beautiful, you know?” She started. “And so, so strong... but you can let it go now. I understand you don't trust a woman that you just met and that claims to be an entity of inspiration, but there are other ways, other people, and art is a transformative thing, you know that. It will open your wounds, yes, but it will also clean them so they can heal properly. You just have to find out what works for you."

"I don't know _how_...!" The pain on Amélie's words was sharp; it tore Emily's heart and she cursed internally that humans had to feel that much.

"That's why I'm here. To help you discover how."

"I... I want to go home." She raised her head and looked at Emily, who nodded. "I can't go alone."

"No problem, I'll take you. Just show me the way."

"I believe it'll be better if we take a cab..."

Emily chuckled and shrugged. "My sense of distance is terrible. Spirit problem, I think - you can just break through wherever you want. Believe me, I tried to do it in this form… and hit a wall in the process.”

Amélie managed to smile shortly, and that was Emily's victory for the night. As they left, stars shining above as clear as it was possible on a city like London, Emily felt for the first time some gratitude towards Lena and her honest, impulsive ways. It was because she went to check on her that afternoon that she was able to see Amélie on that bridge and act accordingly, after all.

The violinist kept playing on that spot on the street for quite some time and later, when he finished and started gathering his equipment, he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the tip those two women from earlier left him. It was an almost obscene amount of money, enough to cover almost a month of his usual expenses.

 

\--  


"Hey Lena, can you please listen to me ?!"

"huh...? Oh sorry Hana, what were you saying...?"

"Go get some coffee!" Hana sighed and shook her head. "Actually don't, we don't need _another_ broom incident.”

Lena stuck out her tongue, but her friend simply paid her no mind.

"Who did you fuck this time to get this sleepy anyway?" Hana was restocking on napkins and sugar, but she definitely was a bit sour.

"Oi! Just couldn't sleep well, ok? Why do you always think I'm shagging someone?"

"Because you are!"

Lena didn't answer that, instead she busied herself with cleaning the coffee machine. Hana leaned on the counter and chuckled.

"I was saying" She began "that I'll call Mr. Ogundimu after we leave here today. Is it ok with you?"

"Sure..."

"You're cleaning this part for ten seconds now, you know?"

"huh? Oh, right!" Lena chuckled and messed with her hair.

"Are you ok?" Hana suddenly dropped her usual tone for a worried one, and that made Lena smile; That little gremlin liked her, after all. “You’re awfully aloof today.”

"No, I... I wonder how that woman is doing?" She confessed, gingerly.

"Woman...? Oh, the one that was trying to kill herself?"

"yes... "

"Don't think too much about it. That ginger lady went off with her and probably called a doctor or something, so she must be on meds right now. Did you even see where she came from?! I was getting my phone to call the cops and she suddenly was there speaking french, all badass...!"

Lena shook her head. "No idea... but you're right. The woman’s probably ok..."

The subject changed to something lighter with Hana boasting about the video from the day before and her editing skills, but Lena trailed off soon, still thinking of the scene on the bridge.

 

\--

 

“So, did you enjoy the tip?”

Lena dropped the sacks of coffee she was carrying in surprise and Emily snorted, leaning against a shelf with crossed arms and a smug expression.

“Why do you keep doing this?!” Lena groaned, glancing at her briefly before crouching to grab the sacks and go back to the front of the shop.

“Mostly because it’s really funny” she chuckled. “But also because I’m still bound to you, it seems.”

“What, really?” Lena turned to face her. “why?”

“If I knew I’d probably be trying to solve it by now but hey, you should be proud! Something about you has the gravitational pull of a neutron star, congratulations!”

“I should throw this shit at your face!”

Emily raised a single eyebrow, as if daring her to try.

Lena almost did it; but she still needed a steady income and that was the best part-time job she ever got. Sighing, she headed out of the storage room.

“You know, I was asking seriously. Did you enjoy it?” Emily followed her, some steps behind.

“Enjoyed what?” Lena grunted

“The flowers, Lena. On the trails of light from the piece you did yesterday.”

“What about them?”

Emily inhaled, then exhaled and rolled her eyes. For the Original Nine, that girl was dense.

“I _suggested_ them to you, my sweet and _very slow_ child.”

“That was _YOU?!”_

Lena turned so fast on her heels to face Emily that she couldn’t help but show a proud smile at her shocked expression and the way she let the sacks of coffee fall down again.

“I didn’t think you’d do it, to be honest. You don’t strike me as a flowers kind of girl...”

“God…! So that’s how it works…?”

“Geez Lena, why are you doing this much noi-- Oh my God the badass ginger ninja!”

They both turned to see Hana on the other side of the counter, looking at them with surprise as she carried some plates and cups on a tray back to the kitchen.

“Ginger ninja?” Emily waved at her, giggling.

“How did you even… Lena! We’re not supposed to let people in the working area, you know that! Unless… oh my god were you making out?!”

“Godammit Hana, NO!” Lena was blushing wildly, she looked at Emily and grabbed her by the arm, taking her out of the employees area. “She followed me. She’s mean!”

“I’m totally mean.” Emily confirmed cheerfully, nodding. Lena wanted to hit her own head against a wall.

“Ok, I don’t have a clue what’s going on but why don’t you settle it outside?!” Suddenly the cashier, a heavy man a bit older than them, shouted from his seat. “We have customers here!”

“I know Mick, sorry, we’re going!”

With that Lena took Emily outside, out of the front of the coffee shop, and only then she turned to face her and resume the conversation.

“Are you like, using me as a toy since you’re stuck and bored and mean?!”

“No, I’m just having a good time teasing you, that’s all.”

“But I am not!”

“Don’t worry, I was planning on changing the topic now anyway.”

“To what, if I may ask?!”

“Thanking you.” Emily smiled in such a sincere way that it took Lena by surprise, disarming the clever reply she was ready to fire. “You held her on that bridge long enough so I could arrive and do something about it. You saved her life, Lena.”

“N-no I didn’t, it was you with your fancy talk!” She blushed, scratching the back of her neck.

“My fancy talk would’ve been worth nothing if she had already jumped by the time I went to check on you.” Emily sighed and Lena could see something warm on her eyes, a spot of green she hadn’t noticed before and the way she put her hands on her pockets, relaxed.

“...how is she?” She finally asked, her voice suddenly hesitant.

“She’s resting. Not on the best shape after the suicide attempt, but a bit better.”

“Is there anyone looking after her?”

“She’s here with a cousin. I managed to talk to her and tell her about the attempt, so I expect she'll be taking a closer look now.”

Lena nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

“I have a question, Lena.”

“And why don’t you just say it already? It’s not like you mind me that much anyway.”

Emily chuckled. That much was true. “Since we will be seeing each other every time I materialize, I guess it would be nice to know you better, what do you say?”

Lena didn’t know if Emily was smiling like that on purpose because she had seen what it did to Lena, but it worked nevertheless. The woman soon turned to face her shoes, blushing, and cursed mentally her inability to function properly around a girl so pretty.

“Sure, but I’m kinda still working, you know…”

“Which brings me to my second question: Why are you working here when you’ve got the talent to be so much more?”

She just froze for a moment, then managed to recover with an outraged face. “What kind of question is that?! I can’t tell if you’re outright messing with me or being serious, and I don't even know which is _worse_!”

Emily merely raised one of her eyebrows in amusement. “Not messing with you on this one. Now, off with you to work.”

“Well I have a question too, lady! What are _you_ doing here when you’re a oh-so-special muse?”

Emily showed her a clever smile. “ I told you before, I’m on a mission.”

“ _What_ mission? I think I deserve to know if you’re gonna keep appearing on my life!”

“I’m here to try to help Amélie, the woman you saved.” Emily said, now serious.

That was not what Lena expected. In fact, she didn’t know what to expect at all, but this…

“Go to work, Lena.” Emily went back to her usual cocky self and waved at her dismissively. “We’ll talk later, after you know what Akande wants from you.”

Lena nodded and went towards the coffee shop, but a sudden thought made her stop and turn. “Wait, that was you t-- oh, you’re gone, why am I not surprised…”

She sighed and shook her head. Why did that kind of weird stuff had to happen to her…?  


\--

 

She didn’t reappear that night to talk to Lena as promised. Instead she travelled through the fibers of reality meeting some people, giving suggestions, doing her work before it became too much for her to handle.

It started with a visit to an apartment in New York where a little girl, frustrated by the rainy weather, was about to draw the night sky on her brother’s notebook; then a quick peek at a play unfolding in an old, crumbling theatre in Manilla where a young man played the classic roles with a passion that would earn him an instant contract in Hollywood, if the world was an ideal place; Some hours on a hospital in Rio Branco where clowns made the day a little brighter for kids with cancer… a lot of different places in the world, different cultures and visions, and she loved everything about it.

Last but not least, Amélie Guillard.

She arrived at a comfortable and expensive-looking living room, but nothing compared to the family’s estate back in France. The designer furniture or expensive-looking electronic devices on a shelf didn’t impress her a bit by nature, much less when that woman was on the room: Amélie was laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with apparent boredom. She stood in front of her and studied that expression for a moment, and she saw felt herself smile a bit, even if she didn’t exactly have a face there.

Would she like to do something? There were at least a dozen nice activities she couldn’t think of, based on the woman’s tastes, but there were some things that would probably hit sore spots. She settled for suggesting some light reading, maybe one of those short stories books that she had seen on a shelf next room the time she was there physically.

Amélie looked in that direction, seemed to consider the idea and sighed, turning to face the couch.

She then asked about staying outside a bit, getting some fresh air - the balcony was near, there were nice reclining chairs there and she could bring something to eat or drink while she relaxed.

Amélie didn’t seem too fond of this idea either.

The thing that made it so hard wasn’t actually the 'conversation’ or wrong suggestions. It was that depression ate away that woman’s energy, her resolve, her will to live. She had seen it before plenty times, and it was absolutely not a beautiful, romantic stuff.

Too many people thought they were weak or broken because of depression, but it was quite the opposite; they were being brave and surviving it despite everything, and that required a lot of strength.

She told her to at least get in a more comfortable place if she wanted to lay down, to go to bed and take a nap. It was ok, she deserved it, those last days were really stressful.

Amélie just turned again and fixed the position of some cushions, closing eyes.

She sighed, and tilted her head a bit. There were voices on the other room, her cousin was talking to someone after a day of work, and entered the living room talking on the phone. It was time for her to go.

 _Good night_ ma belle _,_ she thought with herself, _sleep well._  


_\--_

 

It was still barely believable that she was there on that awesome elite club painting a mural for Mr. Ogundimu.

Lena had a huge smile behind the mask as she painted a wave of red to follow the mood of the song blasted on the stereo by the dj a few steps to the side. That was the assignment - paint what you feel with the music - and she was fully aware that some people stopped by to see her working, despite the dance instructor leading what looked like a rather fun activity. She wasn’t that used to the attention, but it made her proud. Those people were rich. If any of them decided to patronize her…

She finished that part, a red ribbon around a dagger piercing a stereo, and the music changed to something less brutal and more enthusiastic, a perfect running track. In her mind’s eye Lena imagined sound waves turning into racing cars, motorcycles, fighter jets…

She stopped for a moment. A fighter jet there would be perfect, but…

“Oh look at that, Amélie. It’s lovely, don’t you think?”

Lena would like to say she turned out of surprise, but in fact it was the name. It had stuck in her head as Amélie, the woman on the bridge, and it was different enough that she wanted to see if it was in fact the same person.

It wasn’t. Two blonde women looked at her with sparkling curious eyes, and they were really cute. Lena took of the mask and smiled at them. The shorter one with hazel eyes blushed a bit, and by the face she made it was quite clear that Lena was her type.

“Hi ladies! Like it so far?” Lena pointed in the general direction of the mural.

“Yeah, very much!” The shorter woman said. “Think you could show us a bit more?”

Lena smiled. “Of course…!”

Some hours later the three were having a really pleasant time in a restroom they made sure to lock, Lena showing them that she could trace other kinds of lines, ones that didn’t require paint cans but could be considered a work of art anyway.

 

\--

 

“So tired, aren’t you…?”

Lena jumped, almost falling off the bed, then she groaned.

“Emilyyyyy…!”

“And you say you don’t go around shagging people.”

This time she really got up, sitting and looking at Emily leaning on the closet.

“How do you-- oh _fuck_ , don’t tell me _you watched that?!”_

Emily raised an eyebrow with a devious smile in her face and didn’t answer.

“That is _so_ creepy! Don’t fucking do that!” Lena covered her face with her hands, blushing wildly.

“I didn’t watch it, you know.” She giggled. “But I saw you three going to the restroom. The rest I assumed and you just confirmed.”

Lena simply groaned.

“I’m going to see Amélie now. Just wanted to tell you so you can lock the door. Oh, and it was a good mural, by the way.”

“Thanks…! Wait, you’re going there by yourself?”

“Yes…?” Emily tilted her head a bit, curious.

“Do you even know how to get there? Do you have any money?”

“Yes and no.”

“Cor, you intend to walk?” Lena finally looked at her again, a bit concerned, “It’s getting dark. It’s really not advisable.”

Emily seemed to consider this for a moment, then she shook her head, sighing. “I need to go, Lena. She called me.”

“Called you? As in summoned?”

“No, not at all, more like thought out loud she wanted to talk.”

“Ah. Well…” Lena scratched her nose and slowly creeped out of bed. “Let me change clothes.”

“...you don’t need to come with me. I don’t want to bother you with that.”

Lena shrugged and showed her a cocky, absolutely adorable smile.

“There’s no way I’m letting a woman walk alone on the streets of London with no clue of what she’s doing, luv. Specially one as pretty as you.”

Emily could have said she knew London even before Lena’s grand-grandparents were born, that she could give her some money and she’d take the tube that, by the way, she also saw being implanted on the city, but in fact she had no desire to tease the girl over that. In fact, her words were so charming that Emily understood a bit more why Lena had an easy time attracting women, even if she didn’t seem to notice it most of the time.

“So you’re going to show me around, eh? Sweet.” She smiled. “I’m going to wait outside.”

 

\--

 

“So, tell me more about yourself!”

Emily looked away from the window and at Lena, sitting at her side. The tube was quite full at the time, given the influx of workers going home, but they were lucky enough to find seats for themselves and watch it getting more and more cramped.

“What would you like to know?” Emily placed her chin on a hand, curious.

“Uh… what’s life like as a muse, I guess? Your favourite color, music genre…? Dunno luv, you tell me what you think it’s interesting about you, I can’t really guess that!”

Emily looked puzzled, like she didn't quite understand the question. Lena laughed a bit to break the silence, but it just felt more awkward.

“Did I say something wrong…?”

“No” Emily quickly replied, offering a sympathetic smile. “It’s just… no one really asked me that before. We’re not really… uh...” She gestured around like she couldn’t find the word. “We don’t usually have this sort of individuality.”

“Wait, you mean you don’t like things?!” Lena’s jaw dropped.

“No, that's not it. We do like a lot of things and we have our prefered niches of people, but we’re malleable, we tend to shape around the tastes of the person we’re helping a bit, so we understand better what we’re dealing with…”

“So… you kinda like what the person you’re around likes?”

“Something like that.”

“That sounds terrible! What if the person likes those weird autotune pop songs!? Oh my god, it’s _torture!_ ”

The complete terror in Lena’s voice made Emily burst into laughter so hard she couldn’t stop even when her belly started aching and tears rolled down her face.

“Luv, you’re gonna choke like that!”

“I-I’m fi… oh god… _I’m fine_. I’m fine now.” She took a deep breath and controlled the impulse to keep laughing, then looked at Lena again… and laughed a bit more.

“So… what’s your niche, then?”

“Passionate people.” Emily finally regained composure, smiling fondly at Lena. “You find that they’re on the most unexpected places and are usually beautiful souls.”

Lena didn’t really know what to say to that, but they arrived at their destination and the subject was quickly dropped.  


\--

 

They stood at the gates of a big house in a rich part of the city. A cool breeze passed by, blowing some leaves on Lena’s face and hair, making Emily chuckle at her annoyed attempts to take them out.

She was still laughing as she pressed the interphone and identified them as the ones who saved Amélie. Moments later a woman opened the gate and saw Emily helping Lena take out the remaining leaves. She politely cleared her throat and chuckled when the shorter woman jumped in surprise.

“Hello! It’s good to see you again, Emily. And you are…?”

“I’m Lena.” She waved.

“Oh, right, the woman that arrived there first! Nice to meet you, Lena. My name’s Angela Ziegler, I’m Amélie’s cousin. She’s inside. “

They were escorted to a luxurious living room where Angela excused herself in order to call Amélie, leaving them alone for a moment.

“Lena, are you ok? You look distant.”

“I do? Oh no, I was just thinking that I heard Angela’s name before, but I don’t know where…”

“She’s calling you up, girls!” Angela appeared on top of the stairs and called.

“Oh! I think…. I guess I’ll wait here.” Lena said, gingerly.

“Why?”

“It’s kinda personal between you two, I don’t want to make it uncomfortable by being there and doing something awkward.”

Emily seemed to consider her words for a moment, then nodded and got up. Lena was such a sweet girl, all worried about someone she really knew nothing about. How awkward was that situation for her, anyway? How much Emily was forcing her life to change in order to help with her needs?

“Thanks for coming with me anyway. It’s very kind of you.”

Lena giggled. “Well that’s me luv, kindness and pick-up lines. Now go up there. Make her night.”  


\--

 

“I didn’t know my words could summon you to this place, _chérie_ , even if with some undesired delay.”

Amélie Guillard was sitting on an armchair by a small glass table on the side of the room. She had a curious expression and a tiny, reserved smile in her face. Her words were soft and a bit amused, and she stared at Emily tired and hollow, but with a bit of humor in those golden eyes.

Emily smiled back and played with a lock of red hair. It was good to see that Amélie didn’t lose her edge after all. She tilted her head to the side as she replied in a very soft tone that was also a mockery: “Sorry I’m late _ma belle,_ traffic is hell when you keep on being yanked to the other side of the city despite your obvious intent to materialize on this specific room.”

Amélie’s smile broadened for a moment. " _Ne te moques pas de moi, muse. Viens, assis-toi avec moi._ "

She obliged, going for the adjacent armchair. Amélie offered her a cup of water, but she declined.

“Now, Angela told me you came with a girl.”

“Oh yes, Lena.”

“She’s the girl you said you keep appearing by, right?”

Emily nodded.

“She preferred to stay downstairs.”

“Can’t say I blame her. I wouldn’t want to see this disaster” Amélie gestured to herself “either.”

Emily scoffed. “I see only a beautiful woman who’s hurt and had to cope with it for too long.”

Amélie shrugged, taking a sip of water.

“And for your information, Amélie, she thought she’d be an intruder, as you called me, not her. She’s too kind for her own good.”

“Well, it ended up being a good thing, I suppose. I’m not in the mood to see anyone right now.”

“Yet you called me.”

Emily raised an eyebrow in a silent question, her eyes shining silver in the dim light, and Amélie turned to look out the window, getting lost in thoughts for a moment.

“You’re something else entirely, _chérie.”_ She finally whispered. “You interest me.”

Emily took an exaggerated bow to that. “Why, thank you very much, darling. I do what I can.”

“Insolent, huh?” Amélie smiled. “I watched that show you recommended.”

That picked Emily’s interest, and she straightened on the armchair. “ _Friends?_ What did you think about it?”

“It’s silly, it made me laugh.”

“Did you like it then?”

“I guess I have to watch more of it. Would you care to join me?”

“Darling, I came all the way from the other side of London to do just that.” Emily laughed, cocky, and gestured for her to turn on the TV.

They’d originally intended to see only one or two episodes, but it quickly got out of hand - Amélie made the funniest comments about human stupidity and had a surprisingly extensive vocabulary on french swears that she used with a straight face, and it made Emily laugh every time. The ginger, on the other hand, tended to defend the characters and their silly actions, and more than once the two women engaged in heated and somewhat excited discussions about it.

One thing they both agreed on, though, was that sitcoms had a weird way to get you engaged around them and forget everything else. Before they knew it was late in the night and they had seen a whole season, only stopping because Amélie was really sleepy and wanted to rest.

Then, as Emily went down the stairs humming a song from the season finale she just saw, she remembered Lena had come with her to Angela’s house.

_By the Nine I hope she’s already home, the poor thing!_

But Lena didn’t go home. Instead, Emily found her and Angela on the living room, drinking whiskey and giggling, and the shorter woman's eyes lit up when she saw her there.

“Oi Emily! Gosh, you took a lifetime, luv!” She laughed out loud, and by the way she talked and her face was red, it was pretty obvious that she was really drunk.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she couldn’t handle her alcohol well…” Angela laughed too, although she seemed to be a less drunk, judging by the fact that she could still feel embarrassed.

Whose idea was to give whiskey to those two?

Nevermind, Emily had a strong suspicion about it.

“Emily, oi Emilyyyy… Angie here worked with Winston! I knew her name was familiar!” Lena sang in that wobbly way only drunk people can do, with a silly smile on her face.

It was impossible for Emily not to smile to that, it was adorable. “Your gorilla friend?”

“My _scientist_ gorilla friend” She corrected, giggling. “And he fanboyed so hard on her, always said how brilliant she was!”

“Oh my, Winston’s a sweetheart.” Angela smiled.

“I’m yet to meet him” Emily looked at Lena and shook her head. “I think it’s time to go, Lena.”

“Whaaaat? But we were having such a nice time here!”

“It’s late and you have to work tomorrow.”

She just groaned. Emily would usually let things play out for the sake of amusement, but she felt too responsible for Lena’s well being after dragging her there.

“Don’t want to work, Emilyyy!”

“I know darling, but you’re going to thank me later.” She offered a hand, but Lena shook her head. Angela giggled.

Oh, that would take a bit of effort, no doubt about it. Emily just shrugged and smiled, though. It was not a problem, as long as Lena didn’t throw up on her and they could take a cab home. She did owe Lena a favor or two.

  
\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ne t'avises pas de lui parler comme si tu le connaissais! - Don't you dare talk like you knew him!  
> Mais je le connaissais. - But I did (know him)  
> Je n'ai pas besoin de ton attention, de ta pitié ou de quoi que ce soit de ta part." - I don't need your care, your pity or anything from you.  
> Ne te moques pas de moi, muse. Viens, assis-toi avec moi. - You must be kidding me, muse. Come, sit with me.


	3. Chapter 3

Lena woke up pressing her hands against her ears, screeching painfully. Her head was about to explode and that incessant buzzing - some rational part of her brain told her it was an alarm - made her want to die and kill someone at the same time. 

She searched the end table blindly for her phone and took longer than usual to deactivate the alarm, mumbling curses as her vision adjusted to the bright screen. She threw herself back into bed with a groan.

There, way better. Her head was still aching terribly, though.

“Fuck…!” Lena whispered and put a hand on her forehead. There was something there, to her surprise. Some… paper? She detached it effortlessly and unfolded it. What the hell could it be to be attached to her like that?

 

_ Brought you home and set your alarm for work. Good luck with the hangover. _

_ Amélie gave me money to take cabs to visit her. I can’t take it with me, so I left it on the table. Can you take some with you for when I reappear? _

_ Emily _

 

Lena had to read it twice for the words to make any sense. Amélie gave her money…? Oh right, they went to her house the night before! Well, Angela’s house in fact - Angela Ziegler, the super important doctor that worked with Winston for some time!

The facts quickly came back to her mind, even though the details got increasingly blurred with every sip she took of whiskey with Dr. Ziegler. That was embarrassing. She probably made a fool of herself around the doctor, and she totally didn’t remember going back home… oh well. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Lena stretched and sighed, dragging herself out of bed in twice the usual time. She needed a painkiller and a shower if the day was to be at least bearable.

On the way to the bathroom, though, she noticed the money Emily mentioned on the coffee table. Lena approached and took a better look, frowning at the £50 note.

“Wow, she left this much? Amélie sure is ri-- wait a moment. Bloody hell!”

It wasn’t just one note. The amount of money there was probably enough to buy a motorcycle - too much just for taking cabs but then again, as she was saying, Amélie was probably very rich. Not that it helped with the depression... She remembered what Dr. Ziegler told her the night before.

 

_ “I feel guilty I wasn’t here to take care of her. I have too much work and hiring someone to watch her will probably feel like I’m violating her space... I’m currently at a loss, Lena.” Angela looked at her drink, shaking it slowly, thoughtful. There was pain and confusion in her eyes, and she bit her lip for a moment before going on. “I’ve been talking to some psychiatrist friends and they tell me she has to look for professional help as soon as possible, but she has rejected it every time people got near suggesting something like it.. Doing it against her will is out of question, it would make things worse, with that kind of personality.” _

_ “It feels like she wants to die.” Lena said slowly, feeling small and impotent, putting a hand over her chest. _

_ “That’s exactly it.” _

_ “Why…?” _

_ Angela looked up and stared at Lena, quite tired. “That’s not my story to tell, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “But I hope, I really hope your friend Emily triggers some change in her. Otherwise, I don’t know if any of us can do it.” _

 

Lena shook her head. It was not the time to think about that - or anything else, for the matter. She had to find the painkiller and get ready to work, eat something and leave. She was already getting late. Why did time had to go by so fast?!

 

\--  
  


When she arrived ten minutes late, Lena looked so miserable even Hana woke up from her usual morning torpor to ask her if she had been trampled by something on the way to work. She replied that she had an ultimate showdown against someone called  _ Jack Daniels _ the night before and lost. Hana was on her way to ask who was the guy when she got the joke and went away mumbling that drunk people’s references were boring. Lena still convinced her to do the heaviest part of work, though, claiming that she always did it before Hana properly got out of her sleepy state every day.

“Man, what a busy morning!” Hana practically threw herself on the chair by the espresso machine.

“Of course it had to be on the only day I have a raging hangover, that’s my kind of luck” Lena sighed, rubbing her temple. It was true the medicine worked and she was feeling better, but it wasn’t a complete recover. Her stomach was turning and that was a specially bad thing for someone working around food.

“You look a little more alive now, at least.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Lena chuckled. “ You never told me how it went yesterday with Mr. Ogundimu. I sent you the mural, it’s not fair.” 

Hana’s eyes lit up at the mention and she jumped up, suddenly bursting with energy. Someone could mistake her with Lena in a quick look, just by that attitude.

“It was awesome! Can you believe he’s been looking into esports and studying ways to expand their reach for the masses? Says it’ll be the next great thing on the industry.”

“Cool! I don’t know about the 'next big thing’ part, though. It’s kinda difficult to imagine those games you play being as popular as the Champions League…” Lena hummed thoughtfully, and Hana giggled.

“Maybe not here or now, but who knows, right?” She shrugged. “Anyway, the good part is that he’s planning an event where streamers join in a face-off in a cool arena, with fans and everything, to be streamed on the internet and a paid channel. A test event, he called it. And he’d like me to go!” She practically squealed the last part.

“Congrats Hana, that’s awesome!”

“I know, right?! Finally my talent will be noticed by the world!” She opened her arms in a broad, theatrical motion, and Lena had to take a step back in order to avoid being hit by them.

“Surely it will, luv! Don’t forget me when you’re rich and famous!” Lena giggled.

“Of course, silly. Gonna set you up with the nicest women on the block!” Hana winked and pointed her a finger gun, a gesture Lena mimicked.

“You’d better!” Her mind fluctuated towards a very specific set of features that included smart eyes, freckles, dimples, red hair… She noticed before long she was thinking of Emily, and shook her head in disbelief.

_ Well,  _ Lena thought with herself,  _ I’d be blind if I didn’t think she's bloody hot, at least. Of course I'm not telling her that.  _

Could she tell Hana she was actually bound to a kind of spiritual manifestation that liked to tease her and had a weird but really nice mission? Because that would clear a lot of confusion in the future, when Emily appeared out of nowhere again asking to go after her French friend… 

With a shrug and a tiny smile, Lena went back to work. She’d ask Emily eventually. For the moment, she was thinking of practicing some perspective on her sketchbook until someone actually needed her to work again.

 

\--  
  


Emily didn’t show up for the next days. It was weird at first, Lena looked around expecting her to pop out of nowhere in the corner of her vision, but she relaxed and let it go from her mind as time passed. It didn’t pass as much as it flew out the window, and soon it was friday night and she was ready to go out and have some pints with no one in particular, especially because the pub was just around the block to her flat.

The High Noon was a western themed pub, and despite the weird premise at first, it was quite popular in the area. Lena thought that was amazing, and she secretly wondered if she should open a pub styled after aeronautics and maybe - just  _ maybe - Top Gun.  _ It would make her so happy.

Then she usually thought again and conceded that it was probably not a good idea. Best to keep the Airfix models to herself.

“Here it is, the usual for the lady in the hoodie.” That strong american accent was unmistakable; Lena looked up and saw the owner of the place, Jesse McCree, with his poncho and cowboy hat. She gave him a warm smile as he put the bottle and glass in front of her. “How you doing, Lena? Haven’t seen you lately.”

“It’s just a lot of stuff happening, don’t worry.” She waved dismissively. “But you look very happy, what happened?”

“Oh, I managed to annoy those snobs from the other side of the street because I’ve had a full house the whole week.” He grinned. “They never saw it coming.”

Lena giggled, taking the bottle and drinking from there. “The eternal feud between you has yet another chapter, then? You could write a book by now. Or make a movie, get some money…”

“Nah, personal satisfaction is enough.” Jesse winked, adjusting his hat. The guy was a cowboy through and through. “But  _ someone _ might be hoping to get some out of you, if I can see well.”

“Oh?” She leaned closer, interested.

“The woman on the third table to the left, near Carlos the Cactus, she’s been glancing at you for some time now.”

“Well, I’d better go to the restroom and casually check her out on the way, no?” Lena replied, her tone full of a fake disinterest as a cocky smile made its way to her lips.

“I’ll hold the beer and the spot.”

“Thanks luv, I’ll be right back.”

She got up and stretched, then made her way to the restroom. Third table, he said? Near the pet cactus…?  Lena casually looked in that direction and saw a group of friends drinking and laughing. One of the women looked at her and quickly turned away, blushing slightly from the exchange, and Lena smiled. 

She took her time in the restroom and went back to her seat. McCree soon returned with her pint.

“So, what did you think?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, but a lot of pretty girls have been coming my way lately” She giggled. “Should I go talk to her right away? She looked a bit shy.”

“Well, let’s wait a bit more. From what I saw, she’s probably gathering the courage to come and chat. No need to rush.”

“You’re really telling  _ me _ not to rush, cowboy?” Lena gave Jesse an incredulous look, but she smiled afterwards.

“Yeah, and it comes out of charge, believe it or not!” He tilted his head and winked, putting some bottles on a tray and going out to serve people.

“Send her a pint on me!” Lena shouted and received back a grunt of acknowledgement.

Now she waited. With luck, she’d have company that night.

 

\--  
  


“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything, Amélie?” Angela asked patiently, doing her best not to pressure. “It’s japanese. You always liked japanese.”

Amélie looked at her cousin with an apologetic expression. Angela had bought some food on the way back from her clinic, hoping that Amélie would join her and maybe watch a funny movie. She was trying to help, that was obvious, but Amélie simply… she wasn’t hungry. In fact, she didn’t feel like doing anything. There was a part of her that knew it wasn’t healthy, that urged her to make an effort, but it was like swimming against the tide - she would only tire herself and end up going down anyway.

“I’m sorry, Angela…” She whispered.

“Not even a bit? Please?” Angela gestured towards the food and she took another look at it. It looked delicious, but it was like Amélie knew this as an information rather than felt it with her senses; It didn’t trigger any response on her brain.

“I suppose I could have a piece of sushi or two.” She forced a tiny smiled on her face. It was worth it, if only to see Angela’s eyes lit up with joy.

“That’s great!” She joined hands. “I brought soy sauce, let me find it…!”

Amélie nodded, and as Angela proceeded to happily tell her about her day, she ended up trailing off. Not that she thought her cousin’s work was boring in any way, but it was easier to slip away from everything now, if she wasn’t paying attention. 

At first, she thought of nothing. She was barely aware of the sensory inputs that told her she was on a kitchen, that Angela talked to her, that the night was getting colder and it would be wise to get a warmer coat. It was comfortable, although that, too, was a distant thing.

Then, there was something humming at the back of her mind, something old and sweet, like a half remembered lullaby. It picked her attention and she tried to discover what exactly it was and where it came from. As she focused on the sound, it gently brought her back to the living room. She blinked twice and finally noticed that Angela was in front of her, holding her shoulders and making eye contact.

“Amélie, can you hear me?” Angela said in a very professional, assertive tone. “You’re dissociating. I need to know if you can hear me.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes searching the room around. “...what is this song…?”

“Sorry?” Angela frowned. “There’s no...wait. I think I hear it?”

They both looked around, then Angela picked up her purse and stuck a hand on it, searching for a moment. She brought out her phone, and the volume of the music raised instantly with nothing around to muffle it.

“It’s turned on the radio! I didn’t--”

“Shhh!” Amélie cut her mid sentence, focusing on the song. It was familiar, but she couldn’t quite recall it. There was something off… At least until the chorus.

Her jaw dropped when realization hit her - it was a song from a movie she loved as a kid, a waltz from  _ Anastasia. _ She didn’t recognize the song at first because she used to hear it in French, but now it was clear, the lyrics came naturally to her lips as she whispered them along the melody. 

She had forgotten this song and how much she loved it, how it was packed with longing and bittersweet memories of her spinning around the hall of the _château,_ pretending to be a princess long lost while her parents joined in to dance with her, as the _danseurs_ they were.

A simpler life, that was. Amélie smiled as she cleaned the tears with the back of her hand and looked at Angela when the final notes played, the female voice dying quietly and giving place to another song, faster and completely unrelated. Her cousin looked mystified by the effect it had on her.

“You used to love this movie.” Angela smiled to her, a gentle look on her eyes. “You made me watch it with you every time I visited…”

“Yes, I remember your face. Even then you used to say she’d better go see a doctor about the visions she had on the film.” She chuckled. “Ever the doctor, huh chérie?”

“I guess so!” Angela looked at her phone again. “May I turn it off or do you want to hear it?”

“Actually, I was thinking… Do you want to see one of those movies? The one with the Dalmatians? You liked it.”

“Yes!” Angela giggled. “I’m sure  _ Netflix  _ has it. We’d better move the food to the living room, though. Can you help me?”

Amélie nodded, getting up slowly. She didn’t notice how tired she was… Well, it would be ok to just carry some packages to the other room, nothing she couldn’t handle with that slight limp of hers. She wouldn’t embarrass herself. Besides, it was not like she would be doing a lot of exercise afterwards, sitting on a couch and eating japanese food while she watched a movie.

 

\--  
  


Waking up to some loud sound would turn into a habit for Lena at that rate. This time it was a shout coming from the other room, and she scrambled to her feet and made it to the door before she even knew properly what she was doing. The sudden change in brightness made her eyes hurt and she had to look away before adjusting, staggered.

“Who the hell are  _ you?!”  _ She heard her date - what was her name again...? Oh yeah, Liz - say.

“Roommate, don’t panic.” 

It was Emily’s voice, undoubtedly. Lena’s jaw dropped just to see her there, with that amused little smile of hers, leaning on the doorway to the kitchen.

“Oh hello, Lena. Had a good night?” She tilted her head slightly with mocked innocence. “That’s probably a good time to tell you, darling - you’re naked.”

Lena looked down and groaned, running back inside the bedroom.

“Fuck, Emily!” She shouted from there. “Don’t just get here like this! I thought you were at your girlfriend’s place!”

“She went to have some exams made.” She replied, then turned to face Liz. The blonde woman looked extremely uncomfortable, and Emily shot her an understanding look. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I… wow, I was not expecting that, to be honest.” Liz chuckled, embarrassed. She looked ready to slip away to the first hole she found, looking everywhere but directly at Emily.

“Well, nobody expects the Spanish inquisition” She chuckled. “For real though, I’m leaving. Have a great day.”

The way she said it implied she had a very good idea of the sort the day Liz was about to have and approved it, and that made the woman blush even more.

_ Well, Lena found one as functionally gay as her this time _ , she thought with herself as she closed the door after her.

Emily felt bad about embarrassing the poor woman, but it was worth it just for the gobsmacked look Lena gave her, tripping over herself as she went naked out of her room. That was an image she’d treasure for a long time.

“So you’re Lena’s new affair? Hmpf.”

She turned on her heels and faced an older woman with a silver braid, an eyepatch and a smart, indecipherable eye like the one of the egyptian deity she borrowed the  _ wdjat _ from. Emily felt like she could see her very essence, and even though she kept the relaxed demeanor, that did made her a bit wary on the inside.

“Pardon me?”

“It’s not the first time I see you going out of her flat, you’re pretty, she’s too gay around you, you’re probably her new affair. Am I not right?” Her words and smile were coated in sarcasm.

“Actually, she’s that gay around  _ everyone _ , but thank you for the compliment.” Emily smiled back. “Lena’s there inside, probably making breakfast for the girl she shagged last night, I walked in on them and now I’m leaving. Name’s Emily.”

“Of course it is.” She offered a hand. “I’m Ana Amari. Neighbor, landlord, self-proclaimed Lena’s aunt...  And you’re gonna tell me exactly what’s your business with my girl,  _ spirit _ .”

Emily’s eyes turned wide as plates. It wasn’t just a feeling, then.

“Well… I suppose you’re going to believe me if I tell you” She sighed, scratching the back of her neck. “But I’d rather not do it on the corridor.”  
  


\--

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link for the song from _Anastasia_ in French, if someone is interested: [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBeOCAA1B10)
> 
> Thanks Yossarian, Yumiru and Jrade for helping with this! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Fareeha Amari was having a pretty nice day.

That morning she made her patrols, had no incidents but to help an older lady find her way to a famous shopping venue, the sky was clear and the sun was bright. She should have known that trouble ensued, even if one does not hope for that sort of thing.

With a mother like hers, it was better to be prepared for anything.

Fareeha was called back to the precinct with the premise that there was someone there in need of a lecture, and she didn’t think twice to get in the car and head there immediately. It was not uncommon for her to be called back like that, being as community-involved as she was; Fareeha was usually the one to talk to a teenager that was going the wrong way, to go and check if the older people of the neighborhood were in need of something, to make sure no omnic would come to harm. An example since her first day wearing the badge.

She just noticed something was off when she arrived and everyone gave her that hesitant, tense look.

“Okay, what happened?” She said slowly, looking from one officer to the others.

They all looked at each other, silently arguing about who would tell her the news.

“We have two omnic-assaulters under our custody.” Faliq began, clearly searching for the right words.

“Omnic assaulters? After all this time, here in the Row?”

“Well, these look like the real dumb type, to be honest.” Faliq shrugged, chuckling nervously.

“Why are you all so tense over this? Did someone die, or… oh.” She pinched the bridge of her nose silently praying she hadn’t gotten to the right conclusion.  “Is my mother involved in any of this?”

\--

 

Ana sat on the battered leather couch in the waiting room as if she was home, skimming through old magazines and mumbling that the place didn’t even have decent tea for her to drink while she waited. Emily sat beside her in a more awkward, straight way. What a turn of events, that was - she didn’t think she’d be taken to a police station anytime soon, much less that morning. Of course, she could just fade away and leave Ana to deal with things, it wasn’t like she had done anything, but that would be incredibly rude of her. Besides, she’d rather be there with that incredibly interesting woman.

There was a third person, the Omnic, but they were not detained like them. They were the victim, and Emily hoped someone was taking care of the poor thing.

The door made a loud noise when a tall woman in uniform entered the room. She had a stern look on her dark eyes, dark skin and the same tattoo as Ana, but under a different eye, and she squirmed as soon as she saw the older woman there.

“Really, mother?! You shot two guys with your paintball gun?!” She roared from the door, clearly offended.

Ana laughed soundly. “And it served them right!”

“ _Mother!_ ”

“What? I didn’t even shoot them in the vitals, I was very considerate!”

“That’s not what I-- look, _how_ did this even happen?!” Fareeha paced around, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Well, I was having a delightful conversation with this young lady.”

Fareeha’s eyes widened in surprise as she finally noticed Emily’s presence, and she blushed a bit, embarrassed. They were not supposed to be talking freely like that with a stranger on the room.

“Who are you?” She frowned.

“I’m Em--”

“Oh, she’s Lena’s new girl.” Ana waved dismissively. Emily shot Fareeha a look that said it was not the case, though. “So, as I was saying…”

 

\--

Ana’s living room was an interesting mix of old and new stuff cluttered together. A gramophone and a LED TV stood side by side on a rack that looked as old as time (although it wasn’t - Emily’s powers told her it was made in 1927, and probably had a fascinating story) along with a flower vase. The coffee table was modern, all made of painted metal and glass, and little wooden sculptures of cats in egyptian style sat on top of it, staring at Emily. All over the room items both old and new contrasted in a way that should have made the composition awkward, but didn’t; it was a rather exquisite patchwork instead.

What caught Emily’s attention the most were the photos, though. They were scattered on the walls and showed glimpses of Ana’s life and family, happy memories with those she loved. She saw a younger Ana with three men, all of them wearing army uniforms; A little girl that was probably her daughter posing for the photo, hugging a grey cat; Ana and a teenage girl, her daughter, both smiling in _Iron Maiden_ T-shirts, a concert happening on the background; She even found a photo with Lena on it, a recent one by the looks of it. Lena, Ana, her daughter and - shockingly - a gorilla wearing glasses. Was this the friend Lena mentioned before? Emily really didn’t think there could be two out there.

“Here it is.” Ana brought a tea set on a tray and put it down on the coffee table. It was painted porcelain and looked older than her, undoubtedly a family relic. “I hope you like your tea strong -  British people like it too weak for my taste.”

“I’m not British” Emily mumbled  herself.

“Oh? So what are you, spirit?” Ana had a defiant look as she poured the tea into the cups, taking one for herself and offering one to her guest.

Emily sighed, taking it. “I’m a muse. A spirit of inspiration.”

“I’ve never heard of that” Ana said, taking a sip of her tea. “Or of a spirit that could take human form and wasn’t a sort of _demon,_ or possessing someone.”

“This is a special case.”

Then Emily told her the story of her mission, of being granted permission to materialize in the mortal world in order to help Amélie Guillard, of how the first thing that happened to her was falling utterly confused in Lena’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Ana heard it all very quietly, moving only to drink her cup of tea. She finished it and put it back on the coffee table, sighing before looking straight into Emily’s eyes.

“I believe you.” She said, with no trace of sarcasm. “I did not see any evil intent in you, but I had to be sure.”

“Well, that relieves me.” Emily scratched the back of her neck. “But how could you see I was a spirit in the first place, ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, that. It’s my eye here.” Ana tapped under her good eye, on the tattoo. “Women of my family have been able to see spirits for generations. Some say it’s a blessing from the old gods, but I don’t know, sometimes it feels more like a curse.” She chuckled.

“Oh, I definitely know what you’re talking about. Too many weird stuff walking around, invisible to the humans… but let me tell you, you’re amazing, ma’am.”

“Damn right I am!” Ana smiled. “Well, I think you’re free to go now. But be warned: If you hurt my gi--”

She was cut short by a loud screeching noise coming from outside. Both women looked at each other and ran to the window. What could that be? It sounded like a vocoder was melting.

Outside, at a fair distance, two men rounded an omnic. They looked sturdy, were twice their size, and Emily knew with her powers that they were a Bastion unit. They possessed hydraulic power enough to crush those men easily if they wanted, yet they did nothing but cower and try to flee from the metal bars they wielded.

“Cowards!” Ana shouted, then went back inside and ran to her room.

Emily didn’t know if she should keep an eye on the thugs outside and call the police or wait for Ana to come back from whatever she went to do.

The answer soon presented itself in the form of a paintball rifle that Ana carried back to the living room.

“Wait, you’re going to _shoot_ them?!” Emily’s jaw dropped. Of all the things she could expect, that definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Stand aside and watch!” She replied, going to the window.

Ana managed to aim and take the shoot in a surprisingly short amount of time. In a second, one of the men was down, then the other.

“Ha! Idiots. Not on my watch!”  Ana shouted from there, then turned to Emily. “Call the police, I’m going to help the poor Omnic.”

 

\--

 

“...and that was when we called, the officers arrived and arrested them, and here we are.” Ana concluded, a satisfied smile dancing on her lips as she looked at her daughter. “How is the omnic doing?”

“Collins told me there was a call earlier about a missing repurposed Bastion unit, so they contacted the person and are now waiting for them to arrive. They told that to the Bastion, and they were calming down.”

“Good! They were so scared when I arrived...”

“Which brings us back to the issue at hand: you can’t go out there shooting people!” Fareeha looked very frustrated. Emily felt like giving her a hug and a hot beverage.

“I wasn’t _shooting_ people, it was a paintball gun!” Ana replied.

“Last time I checked it still could do damage, and you proved it by falling two people with it!”

“It’s still less damage than rubber bullets.” Ana crossed her arms, using her 'case closed’ tone.

Fareeha sighed loudly, looking up as if she asked for divine intervention. “You are _so lucky_ the people here know and like you, mother. They could’ve arrested you.”

“Well, they could certainly try.” She laughed.

“It’s not funny, you! That’s it, I’m done, You’re _not_ having that gun back!”

Ana shrugged. “Way to spoil the fun for an old lady.”

“Oh, now you’re an old lady?! C’mon, I’m gonna take you back home. ” She opened the door and made a gesture for her to follow. Then she seemed to remember Emily was still in the place, and didn’t know exactly what to do about it but look absolutely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry you had to see this...”

“Don’t worry.” She replied softly. “It has been a weird and very exciting morning.”

It was clear that Fareeha thought that Emily was the weird one by the look she gave her afterwards, and that was the end of that subject.

The three women passed by the Bastion unit on their way out. They were beeping happily, talking to an anthropomorphic, centaur-like omnic, a black girl with colorful clothes and a man that looked like her father, all of them relieved to see each other. It brought a smile to Emily’s lips, one that just broadened when she heard Ana casually say that if it wasn’t for her incredible sniper skills, that reunion wouldn't be taking place. Fareeha just groaned.

As if she was afraid something else could happen, Fareeha drove them back home by police car, in silence, listening to the police radio. It was extremely boring for someone like Emily so, by an unexpected and unknown interference, the radio started playing _Guns n Roses_ \- courtesy of Fareeha’s tastes. It was just so easy to sense them.

The music helped lifting the tension. By the time they arrived at their building, the trio was moderately headbanging to _Black Sabbath_ , singing the lyrics to _Iron Man._

\--

Having that bunch of exams done left Amélie exhausted. Angela explained excitedly to her in medical terms (and she could get _very_ technical) why she needed to have her blood sampled, her hormones checked, detailed information on her brain acquired… it made her head spin, but Amélie didn’t know how to say that to her cousin and not sound rude. She simply let her talk and endured it, as she did with a lot of other things lately. It was not worth the effort.

Angela noticed, though. She knew Amélie was quiet, but after three months having her as a guest, she was learning her body language well enough to know that she was uncomfortable. She gently backed away and asked if it was best for them to just go home, receiving a relieved nod as an answer.

They had to eat, though, because it was past midday and it had been a lot of time since they had breakfast. They made their way to a restaurant halfway back home and sat by a window, watching as people passed by outside.

It pained Angela to see how little Amélie was eating, and it had nothing to do with the diet she used to keep as a dancer. Depression often made people eat more or not at all, and Angela thanked her training as a doctor to be able to keep cool and not make questions about it. They could be good-intentioned, but they often didn’t help in those situations. The last thing she needed was Amélie hiding or lying about her eating habits out of shame from what she was or wasn’t doing. She had to try another approach.

“Say, would you like to split a dessert?” She asked, a mischievous tone in her voice like a kid about to do something they shouldn’t. “I saw some very good-looking ones on the menu.”

“Actually, I…” Amélie trailed off, poking her food with the fork. “I’m not that hungry. I know I should be, but-” She shrugged, looking down.

“No, no problem! It happens.” Angela put a hand on the table, palm up as an offer of reassurance. Amélie didn’t take it, shaking her head instead. “It _really does_ , I’ve seen it. Just make sure you eat a bit, okay?”

“It’s not a good thing, to waste food like this.” She sighed. “My mother would always tell me to grab only what I’d eat, that wasting food was a sin.”

“Well, for all I know she’s not here right now, is she?” Angela raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Besides, it’s not like you can control it.”

“Exactly.” Amélie locked eyes with her, serious. “And that’s the tragedy of it, isn’t it? I’m not in control and I can’t get out.”

Angela sustained her stare, her expression changing to the practiced calm of an experienced doctor. “That’s why it will be better when you start taking medications, Amélie. You need a hand with taking care of things, right now. It will help you, I promise.”

_That was not it_ , she wanted to say, but it was too difficult to put the turmoil she felt into words. It was easier to just let it go, to look down and not resist it. What could she even say that Angela didn’t know, anyway...?

The silence stretched, uncomfortable for both of them.

“Is that…? Look, it’s Lena there, isn’t it?”

Amélie raised her eyes. Lena? Who was Lena? She looked out the window, towards the direction where Angela was looking, and saw two women on the other side of the street. She didn’t recognize one of them but the other was - undoubtedly, by that windblown hair - the one who saved her. So _she_ was Lena.

“Is she painting that wall?” Amélie frowned.

“Yes, street art. She told me she did it that night at home.”

“That’s unexpected.” But not entirely, if she thought about it. Lena really looked the wild type. It was just not a profession one tended to think someone would have.

She was in the initial stage of the work, sketching several animal forms on the wall. They slowly turned into dogs and cats in various colors and sizes, subtly flowing towards the door of the pet shop that probably hired her to do the job.

Amélie and Angela would look from time to time as they finished their lunch, observing the progress of the work and the occasional pauses. In one of those, Lena happily showed her blond companion how to handle the paint cans properly, laughing as she’d make a mess on a cruder part of the work.

“I wonder how she manages to be this lighthearted.” Amélie commented. “Her friend just spoiled a part of it.’

“Well, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal.” Angela shrugged. She knew how her cousin, as a top ballet dancer, strived for perfection in every moment of her life until the accident. It was understandable she had a hard time grasping carefree attitudes like that. “Besides, they’re having fun.”

“Huh.”

Amélie looked puzzled, almost fascinated as she watched, and Angela couldn’t really tell if it was because of the art (it was shaping to something really nice) or because of Lena’s attitude. If she had to bet, though, she’d say it was the latter.

“We could go there and say hi if you want.”

“I do not wish to intrude.” Amélie replied, finally taking her eyes off the window and to her cousin.

“I don’t think that’ll be the case, Amé. She was quite happy to know you were doing fine the other day. It’s not like we’re going to take more than a few minutes, too.”

She bit her lower lip and thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, it’s better not.”

“Okay, your call.” Angela nodded. “But I think she saw us.”

Amélie’s eyes darted to the window and saw that, on the other side of the street, Lena was holding up an old newspaper (much like the ones that covered the floor around the wall she was painting, probably to prevent a mess) with a _Hello ladies!_ written on it with purple paint. She opened a huge smile when she saw that they were looking.

It drew a chuckle out of Amélie, by the unexpectedness of the gesture. Who the hell did that kind of thing? It was shameless… and quite adorable.

Angela picked up a napkin and a lipstick.

“What are you doing?”

“Replying!” She said, giggling.

“With a lipstick?!” The horror in Amélie’s voice was almost palpable. How could Angela ruin a perfect piece of cosmetics like that?!

“Do you have a marker?”

Well, that was a point. Amélie just watched as she opened the napkin, wrote _Hello there!_ and held it in front of the window for Lena to see.

It didn’t take long for the girl to answer: _Amélie, you’re rich af._

“What…?” She frowned, while Angela laughed. Where did that come from…?

It became clear when Lena turned the newspaper and wrote the rest of the message: _It’s really nice you left money for Emily._

“Oh, so that’s it. Angela? Give me the lipstick.”

Angela smiled and gave it to her. She picked up another napkin and wrote a reply: _I’ll be right there, chérie._

Lena replied by drawing a kitty with a paw over its mouth, _waiting_ written over it.

\--

“Hey Amélie, Angela! What are you doing around here?” Lena greeted them with a huge smile.

“Exams. Lots of them.” Amélie replied softly.

“Oh right, Emily did say something about it…!”

“Is she around?” It was obvious by her tone she hoped so.

“Nah, I last saw her this morning, when… oh!” Lena’s eyes went wide and she turned to her friend, who was standing some distance away. “Amélie, Angela, this is Liz. Liz, these are my friends!”

Lena was so gleeful that she didn’t notice the unsure way the woman looked at them, but they certainly did. It was a bit scared, like they were competition.

“Hello.” Angela greeted, ever charming. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“ _Salut._ ” Was all that Amélie said.

“Nice to meet you two.” Liz replied. “So you’re that ginger’s girlfriend?”

That was not the right thing to ask. Amélie frowned, looking from Liz to Lena, that was blushing and trying to signal her to just go with it for the moment, and she sighed.

“...so you met Emily?” She asked, seemingly uninterested.

“Well, yeah… that’s kind of a euphemism. She just appeared in the room out of nowhere and scared the hell out of me.” She giggled, embarrassed.

“Oh?” Amélie gave her an amused smile. “She does that, _chérie._ It’s lovely when you’re putting makeup on.”

She had to make a mental note to ask Emily about this when she appeared again. There was probably a good story behind it.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d ever see you working, Lena!” Angela softly turned the conversation around, feeling a kind of hostility between the two women. “You’re fast, we were watching from the restaurant.”

Lena was happy to talk about her trade, boasting about her techniques and skills, and Angela was happy to talk about the different breeds of cats and dogs she could use for that work. Liz soon excused herself, saying she had been out of home for too long, and went away. Amélie knew it was probably because of her, but didn’t care; Something about that woman was unnerving, her intuition was tingling.

“...and, as a cat, I think you’d be a siamese? And Amélie here would totally be one of those fancy ones, white with long fur and yellow eyes.” Lena giggled.

“Hm? When did the conversation turned to our cat-selves?” Amélie raised an eyebrow. She spaced out for just a moment and was now a feline?

“I think you’d be a puppy instead, Lena.” Angela added. “A cute one, like a beagle or a corgi.”

“A corgi? No, their limbs are just too short, I’d be more like a majestic breed focused on running!”

“...an hyperactive miniature pinscher, maybe.” Amélie managed to say with a straight face.

“ _Oi!_ ”

“Amélie!” Angela tried to reprehend, but she was laughing too much to be taken seriously.

“I’m not gonna draw kitty-you here, then!” Lena stuck her tongue out.

“Oh well, how will I live with that.” She smirked. “I think I’m gonna have to kill myself.”

Lena froze completely, taken off-guard by such a statement. Her expression soon shifted from surprise to horror and then fear, and she took an eager step towards Amélie.

“No luv, please don’t! I’m sorry!”

She looked ready to roll on the floor if Amélie so desired, if it would stop her from taking her life. Such display of vulnerability was strange and quite moving. As Emily said, Lena was too nice for her own good.

“You clearly don’t get self-depreciative humor, do you, _chérie?_ ” Amélie tilted her head slightly. “Now tell me, what was that about me being ‘that ginger’s girlfriend’?”

Lena blushed in record time.

“Y-you see, Emily appeared out of nowhere in my living room today, like, no big deal, except… erm… Me and Liz weren’t exactly _ready_ for it, then I said she was my nosy roommate and asked about her girlfriend, in order for her to appear absolutely not like some other girl I shagged before her and I didn’t think I’d bump into you and spill that and--”

“ _Mon dieu, chérie!”_ Amélie interrupted putting a hand on her temple and massaging it. “You talk too fast and too British when you’re flustered.”

“S-sorry?”

“Wait. Why did she just appear like that in your house, Lena?” Angela asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s really weird.”

_Crap._

“No, not at all! I mean, she _is_ my roommate, it’s not like I lied about that, I just lied about her having a girlfriend!” Lena laughed, messing with her hair in a clear nervous gesture.

She was not a good liar, but she was lucky; Angela took her apprehension as a sub product of the flustering and didn’t press on the matter, laughing instead.

“Oh Lena, never change.” She said, putting a hand on her shoulder before turning around. “It’s getting late, we’d better go now. Good afternoon!”

“Okay! Oh wait, Amélie! Can I have your number?” Amélie just looked at her, waiting for the explanation. Lena lowered her voice in order to do so. “So I can text you when Emily wants to see you.”

Understanding passed through Amélie’s eyes and she immediately searched her purse for pen and paper, writing hastily and giving Lena a creasy receipt with her number.

“Thanks luv!”

“You’re welcome. See you around, Lena.”

“See ya!”

Lena stood there looking as they walked away, a smile on her face. They were really nice. She had to ask if they wanted to go somewhere sometime.

\--

 

Later that day, when the stars were beginning to appear in the sky, Amélie went out of her bathroom wearing comfortable clothes and a towel wrapped around her hair. Long, warm baths were still a source of joy for her, and she felt like she needed one after that tiring day. She sat on the bed, in front of the mirror, and removed the towel so she could properly care for her hair. Even if she didn’t feel like it, the perfectionist in her demanded so.

She was combing her hair when the phone buzzed on the end table. She was near enough to be able to take a peek without moving too much, and saw it was a message from an unknown number. Dismissing it would be the natural course of action, but the preview showed Lena’s name on it. She was quick to unlock the screen and see what it was about.

_Hello! Lena here!_

_Sorry it’s not about Emily this time, but I wanted to show you something..._

_[attached picture]_

 

The picture showed a close up of the wall Lena was working on earlier, finished. Four cats stood out: a siamese with a lab coat; a brownish tabby, ready to pounce on a white long-haired one; and an orange tabby laying down, looking at the others.

 

_I drew kitty-you! I was going to do it anyway, ha!_

_Hope you like it. Cheers!_

 

“Oh chérie…” Amélie smiled. The girl bothered to give the white cat the same sort of sharp look she undoubtedly saw on Amélie’s expression, and it flattered her. To have someone care enough for those little details… it warmed her heart.

 

_I really like it, merci._

_Just refrain from pouncing on me, please._

 

She giggled, looking at her phone.  Such a foolish, adorable girl, that was.

 

\--

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yossarian and Jrade for helping out! =D


	5. Chapter 5

Amélie didn’t know what she was signing for when she gave Lena her phone. Soon she was receiving lots of messages, some images, links and all sorts of questions she didn’t expect, like if she liked baguettes, because Hana (whoever that was) said she should give her one.

It was weird to receive that much attention, but after some days she had to concede it was sort of pleasant. Lena did talk a lot, but she was attentive and made an effort to learn about her tastes. She made her smile with little doodles of French animals wearing berets, curly moustaches and Breton Stripes shirts (Amélie informed her they were called marinières), and had a surprising knowledge of French art. As soon as Amélie knew that, she almost demanded to see Lena in person.

“Alphonse Mucha is bloody awesome!” Lena said, stretching her neck. It had been a long ride from her flat to Angela’s house by bicycle. “I mean, all that flow and ornaments and oh my god his women! It’s very fitting he’s started the Art Nouveau movement, he’s a genius.”

“That he is.” Amélie nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “You talk about women with such a reverence.”

“Well, aren’t we the best thing in creation, luv?” She grinned. “Except maybe for puppies and kitties. You can’t compete with them.”

“I don’t know chérie, I think you in particular can give them a run for cuteness.”

Lena laughed, blushing. “I’d prefer dashing and wild but heh, thanks!”

“Dashing and wild like a squirrel, I’d say.”

“And you’re… you’re… Evil!” That was a pathetic attempt, Lena knew it and blushed even more. It wasn’t her fault if depreciative adjectives didn’t come naturally for her when it was Amélie!

“Oh, thanks a lot chérie.” Amélie leaned her chin on her hand, giving her an amused little look.

“Ugh, you don’t do me any favours with this… Mermaid’s voice!”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. Mermaid’s voice? The alluring, beautiful voice that hypnotised sailors to their death? “Oh, now I am flattered.” 

“Stop!”

She shrugged slightly. “You started it.” 

“I often don’t know what I’m doing, ok?! Be nice about it!”

That drew a laugh out of Amélie. Lena was spontaneous in a way she couldn’t dream of ever being. She made a slow circular motion with her glass of wine and took a sip.

“We’re all lost.” Her smile didn’t waver a bit as she glanced at Lena. “Some gracefully, like ballet dancers on an ensemble, some crashing and burning like a car wreck.”

That was unexpectedly deep and dark. Amélie’s eyes were locked in a point beyond her guest, immersed in memories, and Lena didn’t need to be an expert to see the pain taking hold of her. She had to do something quick.

“Now that you mentioned ballet dancers, I remembered something cool. Did you know there’s a French guy who loved to paint them?”

She didn’t really think so much as babbled the first thing that came to her head, but it seemed to work - she had Amélie’s attention again, even if her expression was one of surprise and a touch of disbelief.

“Edgar Degas?” She almost whispered. “You know  _ Edgar Degas _ ?”

“Yeah, that was his name!” Lena got up and took an exaggerated bow, giggling. “Loved to paint girls spinning around!”

She extended her arms up and tried to make a ballet turn, but failed spectacularly. Her posture was wrong, she used too much strength and had poor balance: It resulted in a turn that was as pitiful and short-lived as a spinning top’s, and Lena fell on her side laughing.

“That was really… I can’t even begin to explain.” Amélie put a hand on her temple, massaging it,  clearly astounded by the performance.

“My-- dancing skills clearly-- oh my. God. I can’t--  _ stop laughing _ !” Lena gasped for air and kept on laughing, curled upon herself on the floor.

“Are you okay, at least?”

She merely raised a hand with a thumb up. Amélie rolled her eyes, but a tiny smile found its way to her lips. She finished the wine, put the glass on the side table and fixed her gaze on the ball of giggling that was Lena at the moment. She was sure one of her older teachers - probably Mrs. Bonnaire, that utter snob - would’ve had a stroke if they saw what she just did. The thought was heartwarming.

“You’re a wrecking ball in a glass store,  _ chérie. _ ”

“I know, right!” Lena looked pretty happy about it. “But what can  _ you _ say? Are you any better, Amélie?”

She scoffed in response. Her, better? Not at all, except she had been a promising candidate to first ballerina back in France and came from a lineage of top-notch ballet dancers.

A simple idea was born in her mind:  _ show her. _

Well, she wasn’t a dancer anymore. She limped, her movements would never be the same, therefore her career was over.

_ Still _ , her own voice told her,  _ you’re way better than her, no? Imagine her face. _

That was a good point. Spite was a powerful force.

“Well  _ chérie _ ” Amélie smiled, cocky. “Give me some space.”

Lena jumped to her feet as she heard those words. She was not expecting that turn of events, but the prospect of competition excited her. Soon she was perched on the arm of the couch, waiting eagerly.

Amélie positioned herself and took a deep breath, taking a moment to feel her body as a whole. It felt weird in some places. Weak, unbalanced. She could do it, though. She was sure she could - it was almost second nature by now. It just... wouldn’t be perfect.

That thought bothered her.

_ Not the time, _ she scolded mentally.  _ Focus. _

Her usual working leg was the one that sustained the most damage in the accident, but as she stood proud in a  _ plié _ ,with a bent knee and eximious posture, she didn’t change a thing of the usual positioning. Face up, sharp concentration, she visualized what she’d be doing next.

Then, quickly, she turned, extending her working leg and impelling it back to keep the momentum, standing on demi-pointe for a moment before extending the leg again and finishing the movement, back to her first position.

Amélie stood still, closing her eyes. Her leg was hurting more than expected from that simple  _ fouetté. _ It was clumsy and slow, she had to compensate in strength, because of the strain her working leg was not as high as it should, her arms--

“Wow Amélie, that was awesome!” 

She opened her eyes to see Lena gobsmacked, looking at her like she was an angel descending from the very heavens. It was obvious that the scruffy, over-excited and  _ sweet _ street artist liked it, and it calmed the perfectionist monster inside Amélie a bit.

“Why have you never told me you were a dancer?” Lena asked not accusing, but full of curiosity. “I could’ve taken you some great places!”

“Because,” Amélie started, finally getting out of the dancing stance. “I’m not anymore. Not with this leg.”

As if to demonstrate, she walked towards the couch. Her limp was worse, as the strain had been greater than she imagined. She used Lena’s help to sit, cringing from the additional pain.

“Luv, I… I didn’t realize it was this bad.” Lena’s tone was apologetic.

“It’s usually not. That’s because it’s been quite some time I don’t exercise.” She sighed, putting her leg up the couch and stretching to massage her shin.

“Well, you were  _ perfect. _ ”

The way Lena said that made Amélie turn to face her, inquiring. She found no trace of lie or mockery in her expression. How could it be? How could she think that awful display was something good?

“Have you ever seen a  _ ballerina  _ in her prime, Lena?” Amélie whispered, hesitant, almost hurt.

Lena’s expression turned to one of confusion. “No... But hey, does it really matter? I saw  _ you,  _ and I think you were perfect! Is…Is it a problem?”

Amélie laughed, but it was a painful, hopeless sound. She looked away from Lena and to her leg again, feeling a bitter taste on her mouth. “I’ll never be able to join a ballet company again,  _ chérie.  _ Even if I try my best.”

Lena got very quiet. What could she even say to that? What could she do? She felt useless and idiot. Why did she have to bring it up, after all?

“Does it mean you have to stop dancing at all, though?” She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Amélie sighed.

“The Guillard have been top ballet dancers for generations. Now I’m just the tragedy of the family.”

“Oh,  _ that  _ I know all too well.” There was a certain edge to Lena’s voice. “But you don’t owe them your life, luv. You’re not responsible for something you didn’t choose. If they ever suggest that you are, you may very well ask them kindly to shove a beehive up their--”

“ _ Chérie, no.  _ That’s not it. _ ”  _ Amélie looked away, to the huge window the other side of the room. Her eyes glistened with pooling tears, and she wiped them with the back of her hand before resuming talking. “My family supports me. They sent me here because they thought a change of air could help me, and Angela is a doctor. It’s just… I see it in their eyes, the pity. The mourning for what I should have been, and I understand it. I share it with them. I should have died. It would’ve been easier for everyone.”

“Oh luv… don’t say that!” Lena’s hands were warm and surprisingly calloused as they took Amélie’s face and turned it to face her. “That’s depression talking, you know? You’re great, and I’m sure,  _ completely sure _ , that people are so glad you’re alive! Sure it’s difficult right now, but it will get better, I promise.You just have to keep going.”

“Going  _ where _ …?”

There was something Lena wasn’t getting and Amélie didn’t know how to communicate. If she was dead, it would stop and she’d have a chance to meet Gérard Although, if she remembered well, there was a chance they wouldn’t be reunited, as she’d be going to hell. Not that she particularly believed in it, but who knew anyway? 

She couldn’t picture a life where she wasn’t performing for the masses at the opera, fluttering like a feather, causing awe and delight with her precise, skilfull movements. That was her world. Gérard was in it. Everything was perfect.

 

Why did it all have to fall apart?

 

Could she still dance? Yes, a lot of the doctors said so, but not with the same vigour as before, she’d hardly be fit for it as a professional. What was the point, then? To remind herself she couldn’t give it her all, a mockery of her previous self? 

Lena probably saw all the conflict in her eyes and, unable to think of anything, hugged her. Amélie didn’t notice how tense she was until the contact, and let her shoulders drop as Lena’s chin rested on the right one.

“I’m so sorry, luv. I talk way too much and I’m a mess with words. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, chérie. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s just stay like this a bit more, right…?”

“Good idea.”

They shifted to more comfortable positions and held on to each other. 

Some time later, a knock on the open door of the living room caught their attention. Before Lena could turn and see who it was, Emily appeared on their visual field, bringing two mugs and a blanket. She put the blanket down by Amélie and offered both of the women the mugs of hot chocolate.

“Some days will be bad, Amélie.” She said, softly. “But we are here for you, okay?”

That said, she picked up the blanket again, wrapped it around the women and left a part of it for her, so she could sit down and wrap herself, too.

  
  


\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yumiru, Jrade and Yossarian for the help!


	6. Chapter 6

“You know, Amélie needs more hugs. She’s having a hell of a rough time now, and she seemed to like it when I hugged her yesterday.”

Lena wasn’t sure why she was talking to the ceiling. It was weird and stupid and _crazy_ , but she had to admit - quite shamefully - that _maybe_ she thought Emily could be there listening.

“I think she should try to dance again. I mean, after strengthening her leg a bit. It would give her something to look forward to, more people to interact with, maybe some new friends... Could you help with that?” She paused, frowning more at herself than at the ceiling. “Are you even there? God, If I’m just talking to concrete…!”

The concrete in question didn’t answer, and Lena turned and sank her face on the pillow. Damn, she _was_ talking to nothing, and it was _frustrating_. Why couldn’t that awful ginger carry a phone with her to wherever she went when she wasn’t there with the mortals? Would it be too much to ask for an interplanar instant messenger or something?!

Lena rolled to her side and glanced at the sketchbook she left on the nightstand, open on the latest thing she’d been drawing: dancing figures moving to jazz, dubstep, rock and roll, country… She couldn’t bring herself to draw a ballet dancer, though. Every time she tried, it felt like an offense to Amélie.

Thinking about what she was going through was like a punch to the guts. Being deprived of the thing you love to do, the very thing that gives joy to your existence… It put the day when they first met in a whole new perspective.

The sadness, the complete emptiness… it hit too close to home for Lena. Soon the tears were running free as she thought how unfair the whole situation was. It was clear that Amélie lived for her art, why did she have to be stripped of her means to do it?

“C-crap Lena, you soft bitch…!” She sobbed and wiped the tears, quite frantically. “Snap out of it…!”

She needed to distract herself. Jumping out of bed she looked for her headphones. Loud music would help, it always did.

 

\--

 

Lena ended up doing chores while she listened to music. She needed to move to dissipate all the anxious energy accumulated and the flat could use some cleaning, so it was just a matter of killing two birds with one stone - besides, when she was alone and had headphones cleaning was like playing a gig, so it was okay.

She dusted the furniture to the beat, sweeped using the broom as a microphone as she sang along to catchy tunes, and washed the dishes shaking to the rhythm, not worried about her lack of dancing skills.

_“..._ _Were you born to be loved but nobody else seems to know?”_ Lena sang, shaking her shoulders in a quick pace, making exaggerated faces.

Cups cleaned, put aside to dry.

_“We could love, we could love you, if you need somebody to love you”_ Her voice was raising in volume, but she didn’t notice because of the phones. Not that it would have mattered if she did, anyway.

Plates cleaned. How good it was to live by herself and be able to do the dishes quickly.

_“While you're looking for somebody to love…”_ She got ready for the chorus, building tension on her body.

_“Sweet love illumination, sweet sweet love, elev-- AAAAH!”_

In her enthusiastic flailing of arms, bouncing and jumping, she turned on her feet and faced Emily sitting on top of the back of the couch, holding the laughter. Shocked, she staggered back and had to lean on the sink not to fall.

“WHAT THE _FUCK_ EMILY?!”

Lena took off the phones in a heartbeat, looking at the muse in plain horror and blushing wildly. Emily had a hunch that she’d have thrown herself out the window if given the chance.

“Sorry darling, it was too charming not to watch.” Emily giggled, and her eyes had a playful, affectionate spark.

Lena groaned painfully and hid her face with her hands for a moment. “Definitely _not charming,_ luv! I dance like a bloody _tube man!”_

_“..._ so?”

“What do you mean, 'so’?!” Lena shot her a disapproving look, and Emily smiled and jumped from the couch, a devious swish to her walk as she approached. Lena took a step back. What was she up to this time?

“I mean” Emily explained slowly, as if savoring the moment. “is it really important, as long as you’re having a good time?”

That took Lena by surprise. She expected a witty remark, a smirk and something teasy, but Emily was set on being unpredictable, and those eyes… Those bright blue eyes with a touch of gold looked inviting, a bit excited even. She didn’t know what to make of that. In fact, she suspected her brain had just melted into a puddle.

“...What’s the deal with your eyes…?” Was the first coherent thing she could say, even though it slipped out quite mindlessly.

Emily raised an eyebrow, surprised, but then realized what she meant and chuckled. “You mean the color?”

Lena nodded. “It’s like they change.”

Emily put a hand on her chin, considering it. “Is that so?” She tilted her head a bit, her tone full of amusement, and the gold in her iris shifted hue to a greener tone, settling in something near turquoise and teal.

Lena gasped. “They do!”

She winked and turned away, going back to the living room.

“Hey, not fair, you can’t just drop that and not explain it!”

“Poor you, so bullied. Now, back to the real issue here: If you want to dance, darling, then dance and show people the finger if they bother you. It’s about having fun, you know. Expressing yourself.” She found the modest, battered stereo Lena kept partially hidden behind a pile of books that didn’t fit in the rack, and pushed the power button. Nothing happened.

“Uh, it won’t work, luv. I keep meaning to take it to a repair shop but I always forget.” Lena scratched behind her ear, a bit embarrassed.

“Oh well.” Emily sighed theatrically, putting a hand on her chest and looking up. “I was trying to make a point here.”

Lena crossed the room to where she was, curious about what color her eyes were at the moment. The gold was back, warmer than before. “I get it, don’t worry… But I simply can’t dance.”

Emily turned to face her so quick her hair whipped behind her, and her eyes went wide for a moment. Then she grabbed Lena’s hand and stared at her with a piercing, incredulous look that made Lena feel like she had just insulted her childhood friend or something.

“One does _not_ tell that to a _Terpsichore,_ darling!”

“A Terp--what?!”

She rolled her eyes and made a twirling, broad motion with her hand. _Terpsichore, darling._ She thought. _It’s greek._

The stereo instantly turned on in a loud screeching noise, almost making Lena jump out of her slippers, then shifted stations and started playing a song. She never heard it before but it was nice, with a funky bass, piano and an unexpected trumpet that added a vintage touch to the work as a whole.

Before she could say anything, Emily grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. She started a simple set of steps back and forth, enumerated to the beat: _1, 2 forward, 3, 4, back and again._ Lena stumbled pitifully, cursing under her breath.

“I can’t do that!” She cried out, desperate. She was going to fall on her face like she used to do at school, Emily was going to laugh and it would be awful--

“You can! If I was a six-year old and asked you to dance with me you’d just do it, right?”

“But you’re not!”

“No, but I won’t judge you either.” Emily raised an eyebrow and smiled, understanding. “And you can always do whatever the hell you want.”

She raised their hands and spun Lena in a quick motion that caused a tiny squeak from the girl, then held her safely by the waist when she turned back.

“Just relax babe, I’m here.”

That low and warm tone could have melted Lena alone, but she managed not to make an undignified noise as she tried to follow the steps. It was strange how it actually seemed to be easier this way, despite the almost tingling awareness of the warm hand on her waist and the rush of semi-coherent thoughts that was flooding her mind.

“Your eyes are so wide, did you see a ghost?” Emily looked like she was quite enjoying herself as she disengaged, twirled gracefully and held Lena again.

“Yep, a ginger one.”

“Really? You must be very lucky, then!”

They looked at each other and laughed, Lena almost tripping on the couch and falling. The song faded out and another one, equally unknown and funky, took its place. Emily bowed and made exaggerated flourishes to offer a hand.

“Shall we, _mademoiselle_ Oxton?”

Lena shook her head, still laughing. “God, I hate you!”

Then she gave her hand and they danced, free and awkward until it didn’t matter for Lena anymore if it was shameful or not. She stumbled and almost fell two times, being held at the last moment by an Emily with the cockiest of grins; She threw her hands to the air like she just didn’t care, did the _Macarena_ and ended up by dropping like it was hot on the couch, having a fit of laughter so strong she slipped to the floor, and it all felt wonderful.

“There, was it that bad?” Emily was laying on the couch, leaning near the end of it and holding her head on her hands as she stared down at Lena.

It should be nothing, but Lena noticed how radiant she looked, glowing with pride from a work well done. The blue in her eyes was almost electrical in the morning light, and the way her red hair stuck to her face after the exercise...

Whatever Lena was going to reply just slipped from her mind.

Emily was so beautiful...

 

Oh.

 

_Oh Lena, no._

 

“You devious woman, it was great…!” She finally replied, stumbling into the words and laughing. She felt like her cheeks were on fire, and the fact that Emily was watching didn’t help at all.

“Mission accomplished.” Emily saluted and moved to a more comfortable position on the couch, laying on her back and sighing happily. She snapped her fingers and the music died down, along with the stereo.

The silence was comfortable after that huge workout. Endorphins enveloped them in a layer of satisfaction, their muscles ached in a very characteristic and nice way and soon there was a sleepy atmosphere in the room.

A part of Lena wanted Emily to roll down the couch and lay on the floor with her, but the other part knew that thought was ridiculous. She could _not_ have a crush on a woman that was clearly so involved with someone else. Besides, she wasn’t human and had stated before that they felt things in a different, stronger way, so who knew how a muse worked?

That reminded her of something she had been forgetting to ask...

“Hey Emily.”

“Hm?”

“Are there many like you?”

“What do you mean? Muses?”

Lena sat up. “Muses in human… Shape? Wow, that sounds weird.” She frowned to herself.

Emily sat up too, a bit more serious. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and took a moment to answer. “Just three others, I was told.”

“There’s just four in the whole world?!”

Emily knew what would come next. “Yes. It’s not an easy thing to do, you know. Not exactly safe.”

“But you...” Lena’s voice died down, but the worried look she gave was enough to communicate how she felt about the matter. She grabbed Emily’s hand and squeezed. “You’re ok, right?”

She opened a tiny smile.  “Yes, and I’m very happy to be here.”

“Just four… Amélie is very lucky.”

There was just a hint of disappointment in her tone, but Emily would not be a muse if she wasn’t a perceptive woman. Perceptive and just a little bit devious - she pulled Lena by the hand until she was up and almost on top of her, holding on the couch not to fall on her lap.

“What the--?” Lena squealed.

“If she’s lucky, darling, aren’t you too, having me appear by your side every time?”

Her eyes had a spark of malice, her tone was like velvet and the smile, shameless.

Everything was suddenly very hot.

“T-that was _not_ what I meant!” Lena stuttered.

“Oh?”

“I meant - Blimey, stop looking at me like _that_! - I meant she’s lucky to have someone that’s willing to come all the way from, dunno, spirit place just because of her, okay?! Especially because it’s not easy!”

Emily let her go and Lena stumbled back to a straight position. She was going to say something silly and unimportant to shake that awkward feeling, but as soon as she saw Emily’s expression she just couldn’t: It was a mix of honest surprise, embarrassment and realization, the most vulnerable thing Lena had ever seen from her.

“I never thought of it like that.” Emily said, a bit louder than a whisper. She stared at her fidgeting hands like there was a lot going on in her head at the moment.

“Really?” Lena raised an eyebrow. “You did all of this and never stopped to realize how awesome it was? Because if there’s just four people in the world that could do it, luv, then it’s a hell of a feat!”

Emily didn’t answer immediately. Lena had the expression of a fan that just met their favourite artist, and she was so spontaneous about it that her words made Emily realize that in her haste to help Amélie in any way she could, she didn’t take conscience of her current state. She really was there on the physical realm interacting with mortals in order to complete her mission, something most spirits would just talk about and dismiss as an extreme option, something not worth it.

Now that it was sinking in, it did feel like a lot - and _she_ had made it.

“I just had to do something.” Emily finally said, still taken aback by the realization.

“And now you’re here and Amélie is very lucky!”

Lena nodded, and the silly smile on her face was adorable, her words were sweet and honest, her whole body language exhaled enthusiasm and kindness.

She was like a ray of sunshine early in the morning, gently calling you up to take a look at the colorful sky after a long, stormy night. That was why she was able to break through Amélie’s defenses so quickly… One can’t see a way in complete darkness, but when a light is lit, even something as tiny as a candle, it’s suddenly possible to walk ahead - and Lena could be a hell of a lighthouse.

“She’s lucky to have you too, darling.” Emily smiled, extending a hand to mess (more) with her hair. “She needed someone to annoy her into having some fun, after all.”

“Just like you did to me right now, huh?”

“Precisely!”

“So it’s a cycle then: you annoy me, I annoy her, she annoys you…” Lena sing-sang, bouncing to the sides.

“She doesn’t annoy me” Emily replied, mocking offense. “She’s delightful. People used to flock around her and Gérard, you know?”

“Who’s Gérard?”

Emily froze in that characteristic way of someone who just said something they weren’t supposed to, then pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. There was no turning back now, was there? She considered her options for a moment. It was not like Amélie was hiding it, but they hadn’t gotten to a point where she was comfortable enough to talk about it, either. If she told Lena now, it would be a sort of betrayal of her trust.

“He’s a very delicate subject right now. I’m sure she’ll tell you eventually, but I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Okay, I get it! Sorry for bringing it up.” Lena looked worried for a moment, but then brushed it aside and got up, stretching. “I think I’ll make some tea now, do you want it?”

“I think I’ve got to go, actually.”

“Oh no, luv! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you…!”

“Don’t worry, that’s not it.” Emily sighed, gesticulating as if she was trying to find the proper words to describe something. “I’m feeling weird, I think I stayed here too long between yesterday and now…”

Lena took her hands in record time, her demeanor more serious.

“What are you feeling, luv?”

“Uh… it’s hard for me to describe…”

“Right, no problem.” She smiled, reassuring. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it… pressures? Tingles? I don’t know, but it will stop if I go back. It’s happened before.”

Lena nodded. “I see… Can you tell me if you’re ok after you go? I know I won’t be able to do much, but...It’ll ease my mind.”

“Pay attention to the stereo.” She replied. “And turn around.”

“Are you going to do something nasty to me, miss?” Lena said as she turned, chuckling.

Her tone was playful and quite innocent, but Emily simply couldn’t let such a good opportunity pass by. She tried to get up as silently as she could, approached Lena’s neck and smiled.

“Why, do you want me to?”

Lena jumped so high she couldn’t help but laugh hard as she dematerialized.

Her mind immediately felt clearer, the pain and weariness receded with her body. It was like Emily had just passed through a curtain of refreshing water back to her original self.

Some minutes later, she had Lena’s stereo play “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone, to show her she was doing fine.

_It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me… and I’m feeling good._

 

\--

 

It was three days since Emily’s last appearance. Amélie was on the small balcony by her room, looking at the London skyline. It was late; the air had an extra layer of cold humidity and most of the houses around had already turned off their lights in favor of going to sleep. As it often happened in that city, the sky was clouded and grey, but it wasn’t unpleasant… Amélie thought, with a tiny smile, that she was finally getting used to it. Even the food was not as hideous as she’d thought while in France.

She was thinking - not that this was somehow special, because she was always in her head anyway - about her ballet company. She had friends there, people that she did not contact for months because it was too painful to have any reminder of her previous life. How would they be faring right now? Were their lives any different because of her absence?

_It’s highly unlikely_ , she pondered, _but it’s entertaining to think about it._

Amélie filled a cup of water and took a sip. They probably remembered her with pity now, rather than by her skill and magnificence on the stage. Amélie Guillard, wasted talent.

Before she could go on with the self-depreciative line of thought, though, Lena's words came to mind.

 

_“I saw you, and I think you were perfect!”_

 

She didn't know what perfection was. Lena had never seen it like she had, never strived for it. But the look in her eyes, full of wonder, it was welcome. She had forgotten what it was like.

 

_“Does it mean you have to stop dancing at all, though?”_

 

Amélie sighed. A more appropriate question would be if she would able to live with herself knowing she could not give it her all… Since the accident she thought she couldn’t, but now she wasn’t so sure.

The last month was like something out of a dream, and Amélie felt like her world was shifting in a way she couldn’t really see yet, but would be ground-shattering in the long run. _If_ she got to the long run, of course.

It wasn’t everyday you met the woman that was your muse - and bringing an unexpected sidekick with her.  
  
Thinking of Emily and Lena brought a smile to her face. They were both far nicer than she deserved, and it made something hidden inside of her stir when they were around. They never pushed her, never complained of her sadness. In their vastly different ways, they supported her and dissipated the sadness, a little bit at a time.

They made her feel loved.

It was not that Angela, her friends or parents didn't. She knew they loved her, and they were trying their best to help as they could. The problem was that somehow it didn’t get past the wall depression put around her; she could see and recognize their efforts and love, but it didn’t get to her. With those two women it was exactly the opposite - Emily had materialized right by her side, somehow able to see through her soul, and Lena probably had seen the wall, laughed and climbed it like it was nothing but a daily exercise.

Amélies’s phone buzzed, taking her out of the introspection. She picked it up and smiled; _Speaking of the devil…_

 

**Lena**

_Hey Amé! I just found out there’s a theater near my work that’s playing some classic films every Tuesday, wanna come with me? I guess they’ll play one with Marilyn Monroe this week!_

 

Should she go? It would certainly be an experience, going to the movies with Lena. It was equally likely she’d make a silly remark and a very clever one, or bought two giant bowls of popcorn and ate them alone...

As much as the thought amused Amélie, though, moving to the other side of the city and interacting with other people would drain her energy so much she got tired just thinking of it.

 

_Thank you for inviting me, but I think it’ll be too much…_

 

_Aw c’mon luv, it’ll be fun! I can pick you up and deliver you safely afterwards, just like a cab!_

_...A bike cab, actually! Hehe_

_But if you’re not a bike girl that’s ok too, I can call a real one_

_Or a carriage_

_Or an unicorn! This one would probably cost my soul and an arm, but it’s worth it!_

 

Amélie giggled. An unicorn, _really?_

 

_Please don’t sell your soul for my sake, cherié, I’d rather have you around._

 

“Oh, you’re still awake!”

Angela was in her night robe and had deep shadows under her eyes. She had been working at her home office until that moment, by the way she looked completely exhausted.

“You look like a corpse, Angela.” Amélie pointed out with a tiny smile full of humor.

“And you, like a ghost in this white gown.” Angela replied with her sweetest voice, approaching.

They looked at each other for a moment and giggled. The doctor sat by Amélie, snatching her glass of water and filling it for herself.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, taking a sip.

“I’m not sleepy yet. You, on the other hand…” Amélie tilted her head and stared.

Angela laughed. “Oh, not you too!”

They stood in silence after that. Amélie was still trading messages with Lena, and Angela just watched for a while the faces she made without noticing. It wasn’t that much of a change - a raise of an eyebrow, rolling of eyes, a smirk - at a first glance, but after three months of watching her cousin apathetic and unresponsive, it was a great improvement and filled her heart with hope.

“You know, I got the results for your exams today.” Amélie raised her eyes from the phone, interested, and Angela went on. “We can make an appointment with the psychiatrist whenever you want.”

“What do they say, the exams?” Amélie whispered.

“I didn’t open them, they’re yours.” Angela showed her a comprehensive smile and put a hand on her shoulder. “But whatever they say, it won’t change that you have people that love you and want to see you well.”

Amélie nodded and looked away, to the skylines. “Book the appointment whenever is more comfortable for you, Angela. You’ll be the one taking me.”

“Right.” Angela smiled and followed her gaze. “You know, this place is pretty charming once you get used to it. Nothing like the Alps, though. We should go visit it some time.”

“That would undoubtedly be the event of the year. The Ziegler part of the family calling out the Guillards would be especially entertaining... ‘ _Your sick daughter bothered enough to visit, Edgar! What’s your excuse now?’ “_ Amélie chuckled at the thought of her father speechless, then spitting a torrent of French curses. She thought she missed him or was supposed to, the feeling wasn’t clear beyond the numbness.

“Yes, my mother would totally do that.” Angela smiled. “And aunt Elisse would cook us so much food we’d barely be able to walk after the meals…”

They both stood there late at night talking about their family, and Angela Ziegler thought that her cousin was getting better for the first time since she arrived in London.

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the song Lena was singing: [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ooq23i-QGBM)
> 
> Thanks Yumiru, Jrade and Yossarian for the help!


	7. Chapter 7

Emily looked at her restless hands, fidgeting with some threads on the edge of a rip in her jeans. She was tense. How much longer would it be? Was time slower because of her anxiety?

Angela put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “It’s ok, Emily. If anything, it’s taking so long because she’s talking, and that’s a good thing, no?

Emily smiled weakly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Maybe if she told herself that over and over in her mind, it would eventually sink in and she’d be able to relax. Not knowing what was going on in the other room was more unnerving than she thought it would be, especially because she knew she couldn’t just dematerialize and enter if she wanted. She’d take heed of Amélie’s words and just wait for her to come out.

But was she ok over there, alone with the psychiatrist?

“You care a great deal for Amélie. I don’t have words to express my gratitude for all you’ve been doing.” Angela had genuine praise in her words, and Emily wondered if she was this sweet to her patients, knowing right after she thought it that it was so.

“Well, it’s natural… I almost saw her jump from a bridge, right?”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Angela chuckled. “You had absolutely no obligation to her whatsoever, yet you stayed and you two got so close it feels like you’ve known each other before. That’s not something that happens everyday.”

“Well…” Emily leaned on the chair, thinking. Her eyes suddenly were very distant. “I actually knew her before. I’ve been to France some years ago and I… I saw her dance.”

 

It wasn’t a lie.

 

Angela put a hand on her cheek, her eyes wide as plates.“You did?!”

“Yeah…” Emily smiled to herself as the memories came to her, clear as water.

 

\--

 

Emily was there with a friend, otherwise she doubted she’d end up in the _École de danse de l'Opéra national de Paris_. It was not that she disliked ballet - far from it, she deeply respected it as the extremely complex form of art it was. The fact was that she had diverged from the cold, hard techniques a long time before, in favour of types of dance that were more about raw feeling than perfection. She was all about passionate people, after all.

They stood at one of the small studios the school kept open for the dancers to train on their off hours, watching as a little blonde girl, 6-years-old at best, practiced a warm-up routine on the _barre._

“She’s growing so fast, my little Edithe!” Emily’s friend beamed, full of an almost maternal pride. “Standing _en half-pointe_ so skillfully!”

Emily smiled. “She’s good.”

Unaware to the muse’s presence, Edithe kept up with her exercises. She executed a series of _pliés,_ then some _tendus_ . She left the barre and stood _en point,_ drawing a surprised gasp from Emily, then bent into an _arabesque._ When her working leg was almost reaching the desired angle, though, she lost balance and had to abort the movement, almost falling in the process.

Edithe groaned in frustration. “Again! Ugh, I’m so stupid!”

And that was one of the other reasons Emily stood away from ballet schools. Too much competition and pressure that often resulted in this kind of behavior from someone so young.

“No you’re not, my sweet child.”

The three people in the room turned to the door, where a young woman stood with a soft smile. She was clearly a student, fully dressed in the standard ballet garbs, and she had these intense golden eyes full of interest.

Little Edithe took a step towards the woman and lowered her head “I’m very sorry you had to see this, miss!”

The woman crouched and put a hand on the girl’s chin, raising it gently. “Chin up, you’re a ballet dancer. Now… what’s the matter? You’re not stupid for making a mistake on an exercise. That’s why we train, to hone our skills.”

“But I’ve been training this for days!” Edithe cried out. “I can’t get it right!”

“Oh my poor baby!” Emily’s friend put a hand on her face, worried.

“Could you perform the _arabesque_ for me, sweet?” The woman asked gently, taking her hand off Edithe’s chin.

The girl nodded, took some distance and got into position. She stood _en point_ one more time and raised her working leg as she lowered her torso, lost balance midway and stopped the movement again.

“You see?!” She shouted, frustrated.

“She’s tilting her body slightly to the right.” Emily observed, and her friend nodded.

“You’re losing balance because you’re tilting to the right as you raise your leg.” Amélie echoed. “What’s your name, sweet? I forgot to ask.”

“I’m Edithe.” The girl looked a bit shy.

“And I’m Amélie.” Amélie smiled, offering a hand. “I can help with the movement if you want.”

“You would?!” Edithe’s eyes lit up as she shook it.

“Of course.”

Emily and her friend watched as Amélie gave tips to the little girl, patiently corrected her posture and encouraged her to try again and again. The two muses didn’t need to give her pointers on how to help the little girl, she knew what to do and was a firm but gentle teacher.

When Edithe finally was able to do the _arabesque_ they both cheered, joined hands and jumped from excitement in an adorable display.

“Thank you very much, miss Amélie!” Edithe said.

“It’s no problem. Do you need anything else, Edithe?”

By the way her expression changed to something hopeful and just a bit devious, it was clear she had something in mind.

“You know a lot more than me, right miss?” She said carefully.

“I suppose so? Though this is very subjective…” Amélie raised an eyebrow.

“Can I see you dance?!”

That clearly took Amélie by surprise. She took a moment between processing the request and looking at the excited expression on Edithe’s face, then she nodded.

“It won’t hurt to show you a few steps.” She shrugged slightly. “Can you put on some music?”

The girl squeaked in delight and ran to the desk with the stereo. Amélie smiled. To be this young and innocent again…!

Chopin’s Nocturne No.2 started playing, echoing through the room. She took a breath and positioned herself.

_Breath in, breath out._

Amélie moved with the grace and fluidity of a feather. She improvised her movements and yet, as she knew the song well, they connected as if it all had been planned beforehand, the _adaggios_ and _allegros,_ the graceful leaps and _pirouettes_.

Edithe had sparkles in her eyes, but she wasn’t the only one.

Emily was watching as the scene unfolded with a mesmerized expression. It wasn’t just the way Amélie danced, it was that little smile of someone who knew what she was doing and was completely taken by it, the love in her golden eyes, the gentle way she swirled around Edithe and made sure her movements were as clear as possible to the girl.

“By that face, I guess someone is coming back to ballet, huh…!” Emily’s friend chuckled.

Emily blinked twice, dispersing the infatuation. She opened her mouth to shoot a sharp reply but noticed that in fact, her friend wasn’t wrong. She liked what she saw so much she was taken away for a moment, and if that wasn’t passion, then she didn’t know what was. She’d be looking forward to seeing more of it.

“Gotta dust the ballet shoes.” She finally answered, smiling.  


_\--_

 

“It was the strangest of things, to find her when I was visiting a friend in that school.” Emily sighed, smiling with herself. “I thought I was never going to see her again but look where I am now, years later.”

“It sounds like destiny.” Angela put a hand over her heart, clearly impressed. “The sort of thing you hear from those married couples that discover they were at the same place and time when they were young, and actually saw each other.”

Emily didn’t know if she was implying that they should be a married couple consciously or not, but something in her mind purred at the prospect all the same. She didn’t know what to make of it and lost the ability to think coherently for the moment.

Fortunately, the door opening saved her from it.

“Angela?” The doctor called gently from the door, getting their attention. “I’d like to discuss some things, medication mostly, and it would be good for you to be aware too.”

“Of course!” Angela jumped from her seat and walked to the door, shooting Emily a comprehensive look. “I’ll be right back.”

She nodded and kept watching until they closed the door. Then, she sighed.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of rain outside, and Emily was left there with her thoughts and a growing hesitation towards self-awareness. What was she doing, what with the strange reactions? She wasn’t supposed to get warm with the thought of being… _something_ with Amélie. She was a muse, she was there to help and then come back to her spiritual-only life. But when she thought of Amélie and the way she talked, with all that class and a  hint of sarcasm, the way she laughed, her little mannerisms and those assertive eyes… Emily just wavered.

Wasn’t this the primary reason she was there, in the first place?

She felt extremely frustrated. Human emotions were a mess, so amplified they clouded one’s judgement to the point of wanting to hit their head against the wall - which, by the way, she wanted to do. Every time she thought she was getting the hang of them, they found a way to peak in the wildest directions and she wanted to scream for help. Like, for example, that day in Lena’s house, after they danced. How could she know that seeing the woman so disheveled and out of breath would do those… _Funky_ … Things to her? She barely kept herself from kissing the back of her neck just to see the reaction, and she was _never_ this unbounded. It was ridiculous! Then again, now she knew why there was so much surplus emotion rising from the humans for the muses to get nourishment from: being human was the living equivalent of a runaway train.

Emily closed her eyes and shook her head. It could be utterly crazy and she’d probably crash hard into a metaphorical wall some time, but it was also a really good experience. It added to her opinion of humanity as a whole. With so much going on, fighting as much outside as inside, it was admirable what they could do with their dreams, drive and willpower. How far they had come by helping each other? By being merciful, by acting with love?

The door opened again and she snapped her eyes open. Angela and Amélie were trading some last words with the psychiatrist, who had a gentle smile on her face and nodded. She didn’t really listen to what they were saying, not when Amélie quietly turned and locked red, swollen eyes with her.

Emily bolted to her feet and cleared the distance between them in a second. “Hey there, beautiful.” She wiped a tear away with a thumb and caressed her cheek. Amélie curled into the contact, placing a hand over hers.

“I’m a mess, _chérie._ ” She replied, her voice an apologetic whisper.

“The prettiest, bravest mess.”

Amélie laughed in a disbelieving, faltering way, and buried her face in her neck. Emily wrapped her in a tight embrace in return, stroking the back of her head below the ponytail, and she started sobbing.

“What is it that you even see in me, Emily?” Amélie cried out.

“You want me to make a list or you’d rather have me write a bunch of sonnets to serenade you later?” She chuckled. “Because I’d totally do it.”

That drew a chuckle in the middle of all the crying. “You _wouldn’t._ ”

“Are you daring me? Because let me tell you, I’ll arrive with a grand piano in your house!”

“A-Angela would kill you.”

“Would she, now?” Emily glanced at Angela, that stood a respectful distance away, watching the exchange with an amused smile. “Would you, Angela?”

“I’m not sure a piano can fit through the door _or_ the windows, but if you can make it work and as long as I’m not the one paying…” She giggled.

Amélie let out a skeptical huff and raised her head to look at Emily, breaking out of the embrace. She looked a bit better, but still extremely sad.

“She put me on antidepressants, _chérie_. And told me to go to therapy. I… I feel so weak.”

Angela made a motion to start talking, but Emily quickly gestured for her to wait.

“I understand.” Emily said. “But no matter what you hear or what your mind says, it’s an illness, not a flaw of character. If anything, you’re absolutely _strong_ to have dealt with it so far without treatment, but you don’t have to do it anymore. We’ll be here to help, the pills will help, and I’m so proud of you, Amélie.”

“Well said.” Angela said, softly.

Amélie herself didn’t answer, but took a deep breath. Didn’t work very much.

“What do you think of going home” Angela suggested. “Curling up in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and just watching the rain fall? I know you like it.”

“What a great idea! I’ll make the chocolate.” Emily smiled.

“ _Merci beaucoup…”_

Amélie felt like trash at the moment, a loser that couldn’t even live without being a constant nuisance to the people around her. Yet, she felt loved. She didn’t know why those two liked someone as disgusting as her so much, but she was extremely grateful for it.  Maybe she could do it. Maybe she’d be able to get better, if only a bit, in order to give them a real reason to be proud of her. She wanted to feel like she deserved their praise.  


\--

 

_Pushed to the wall, Lena exchanged a brief look with Emily as they both realized exactly what was about to happen. Her hands immediately searched for the ginger’s face, bringing her in for an urgent, lewd kiss. Emily let out a moan of approval and pressured Lena’s center with a thigh, rubbing up and down so she’d push her legs apart - and she obliged as eagerly as she’d usually have other woman do for her.  They broke the kiss for air only to find each other’s lips again, and this time Lena’s hands unbuttoned Emily’s shirt with the skill of a seamstress and took them out with no regard for the piece of cloth, almost ripping it apart._

_Taking a moment to breathe, they finally looked at each other again. Lena could see that Emily’s eyes had changed at some point, but in the low light she couldn’t quite discern the colors. What was perfectly clear, though, was the lust burning in them; She held her breath as a violent shiver went down her spine, flooding her mind with thoughts of wicked things that would make her roll those eyes upwards in pleasure._

_Lena was an open book, wearing the emotions on her face. The almost obscene way she stared made Emily laugh deviously and make her way to her neck, kissing and brushing teeth against skin until her lips were at her earlobe._

_“So, what are we going to play tonight?” She whispered and bit lightly._

_Lena gasped, holding tight to her back._

_“Me, play_ me, please _!” She whispered back, only partially aware that she was rocking against Emily’s thigh, the friction sending pleasant waves of heat through her--_

 

“Lena, did you see the--”

“AH!”

The sudden noise made Lena drop her scrapbook and pencil, jumping out of the chair on the corner of the counter. Hana watched it all with surprise that quickly turned into disbelief.

“You know, I’ll never get used to these jumps of yours.” She grumbled, crouching to grab the scrapbook. “Oh? What’s this?”

Lena jumped at the thing so fast Hana fell sitting on her arse. She closed it and held it firmly in front of her body, blushing.

If it wasn’t obvious to Hana before, she just made the connection at that point.

“You really were drawing smut this time!” She shouted, triumphant.

“I was _not!_ ’ Lena replied.

“You can’t fool me, just look at your face!” Hana got up and approached, and at each step she took forward, Lena took one back until she was cornered. “And it looked familiar somehow…”

Those last words sent ice through Lena’s spine.   _Please don’t figure it out, please don’t figure it out, please don’t figure it out…!_

Her phone buzzed, taking both their attentions. Lena unlocked it and her expression went for curious to surprised to completely gobsmacked in a matter of seconds.

“Wow what happened, you won the lotto?” Hana frowned.

“No, but a great friend of mine is coming to London next week!” She was bouncing on her feet, her face luminous with joy. “Man, it’s been a while!”

“Do I know this person?” Han blinked. It was true that Lena was easily driven, but that was next level.

“Nah, I met him before you.” Lena shrugged. “But you’ll love him, Lúcio is absolutely the best! We gotta go out together, the three of us!”

“The three of us or the _four_ of us, given that ginger girlfriend of yo-- wait.” Hana stopped, and her eyes sparkled with realization. “IT WAS HER! YOU WERE DRAWING HER OH MY GOD!”

Lena froze for a moment, her brain screaming _Fuck!_ in a frantic loop. Then she put on her most outraged expression and shouted:

“I WAS _NOT,_ YOU’RE IMAGINING THINGS!”

“YOU WERE!”

“I WASN’T!”

“YOU WERE!”

“OH YOU BLOODY WANKER, I--”

“ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!” The cashier shouted. “What if a customer walks in on you shouting like two parrots?!”

“Oh sod off, there’s a storm out there!” Lena protested, gesturing wildly. “No one’s gonna be in that rain!”

“Yeah Mick, that’s a crucial argument here, Lena was drawing smut of that pretty ginger that’s always around!”

“I don’t _care_!” He shouted, exasperated, hitting a hand on the desk for emphasis. “But good taste, by the way.”

Lena groaned, burying her crimson-red face on the sketchbook. Not him too!

The doorbell rang and a person in a raincoat walked in, curled up to protect from the gust of wind outside.The employees watched as the person took out the coat and left it on the hanger by the door, straightening her police uniform and sighing before heading to the counter.

“Hey Fareeha!” Lena perched herself on the counter and waved with a wide grim. “What you doing around here?”

“Hi Lena.” Fareeha smiled back, nodding to the other employees. “I was nearby on a very shitty errand, so I thought I should treat myself some cappuccino.”

“On it!” Hana said, giving a little salute. Everybody liked Fareeha; She had the best stories, was fun and - very importantly - gave nice tips. Lena just shook her head.

“What happened?” She asked.

Fareeha bit her lip. “Some bastard beat an omnic so hard they’d be dead by now if no one had found them.”

“Here in the Row?” Lena’s expression darkened.

“Yes. And it wasn’t an isolated case. We’ve received calls for this sort of things three times this month.”

“Bloody hell, not again.” She whispered.

They both remembered how things were some years before. Human supremacists everywhere,  constant assaults, omnics more and more reclused to the Underground, protests, the police struggling to deal with the ever growing incidents without actual support from the government. Those were terrible times.

“We’re doing what we can right now, but the leads aren’t very promising.” Fareeha sighed.

“Here it is, one cappuccino!” Hana put the cup in front of her and winked. “Sugar is to your right.”

“Thanks Hana.” Fareeha took a sip and made a satisfied noise. “Just what I needed… ugh, what a day.”

Lena was still very quiet, focused even. Hana started chatting with Fareeha about the latest news on the block, and when she mentioned the lewd drawings Lena was doing earlier and the girl didn’t even acknowledge it, both women noticed she was still as a statue on her corner.

“Lena?” Fareeha called.

No response.

Hana poked Lena’s shoulder, then. “Hey you useless lesbian, just say something!”

“...Hm?” She blinked, confused, then focused on Hana. “You were saying?”

“Girl, you’ve been out of Earth for like, ten minutes!”

Lena frowned, disbelieving, and looked at Fareeha, who nodded behind her drink. She scoffed.

“Are you ok?” Fareeha asked.

“Yeah, sure thing…!”  


\--

 

She was not ok.

Lena made her way back home feeling detached and absent-minded, and almost hit a parked car and a person as a result. As soon as she passed through the door she dropped her bag and kicked the sneakers off, going on a straight line to the bedroom and throwing herself on the bed. She let herself focus on the soft fabric of the mattress with her senses, the feeling of comfort it provided, how her muscles were sore after coming and going with orders half the day. It was difficult, though, as her head felt like a thousand wasps buzzing and colliding against the edges. It had been some time from the last episode, time enough she grew comfortable, a mistake so typical she had to groan at it. She let Fareeha’s news get to her, fill her with a sort of panic that she swallowed and led to that. Stupid Lena, stupid. She _knew_ she shouldn’t bottle things up. Now she had to make an effort to keep her mind clear and rest or else she’d have to call Winston, and as much as he’d come without complaining, he was also a very busy person.

She sighed. Was King’s Row really starting to get bad again? After all that happened?  


\--

 

Lena woke up to a dark room, the stars visible outside. Her dreams were bad, but that wasn’t anything new, so she just stared at the ceiling for a moment. The head no longer hurt, but there was a faint humming in her ears that signaled she couldn’t exert herself much for a while. It was expected, so she got up and went to the bathroom. A bath would certainly lift that sticky and heavy feeling that clung onto her.

She still felt exhausted when she got out, but at least her spirit was lifted by the warm water. As she searched for ingredients for a sandwich in the kitchen, she thought it was probably a good idea to call Winston and let him know of the headache anyway. Also, she needed to go grocery shopping as soon as possible, her refrigerator was dangerously empty.

Lena was frying some bacon when Winston finally answered the call. It was tricky to tell him about the headache when he was excited about a new project and telling her all about it, sounding so happy the other side of the line. She didn’t have the heart to ruin his night like that, it was probably not going to happen anytime soon anyway.

So they talked about life and work and the weird little things that happen when you least expect them and make life interesting, like a ginger falling from nowhere in your bedroom and a French dancer that couldn’t see a good side in herself. When Lena finished the story - and she didn’t spare details from Winston, she trusted in him even more than she trusted herself - she had eaten two sandwiches and drunk half a bottle of orange juice, and was feeling quite full and happy with herself.

“ _Lena, you’re an oddity magnet.”_ Winston chuckled.

“ _Oi_ , not true!”

“ _No? How many people know a superintelligent gorilla, a muse, a cowboy, two brothers who can summon the spirits of ancient dragons…”_

Lena giggled. “When you put it like that, hell, what if I’m an oddity myself?”

“ _Could be. Neverending energy is not a common trait, after all.”_ Winston was serious, but she knew his brand of humor well and appreciated it. It didn’t stop her from showing her tongue to the phone, though.

“There _are_ things that get me exhausted, you know.” She replied, faking innocence.

“Aaaand that’s when we change the subject.”

“You should come visit, big guy. I miss you!” There was a warmth in Lena’s voice that usually made Winston want to hug her, but sadly he couldn’t do it by phone.

“I miss you too Lena. I’ll see what I can arrange here and tell you.”

“You are the best!” She cheered.

A loud bang made her jump and drop the phone in surprise. What the hell was that?

“ _Lena, are you ok?!”_

“Y-yeah!” She picked up the phone. “Something is going on outside, I’ll call you back!”

“ _Lena--_ ”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, though, because in a heartbeat she was at the window, looking outside. There was nothing visible from that location, nothing out of the ordinary. Some other people had their heads poking out too.

“I’m certain that was a gunshot!” Ana shouted to Lena.

“It did sound like one…” She replied, still looking around.

“There!” Someone else shouted, pointing to a corner to the left of the street. Something seemed to be moving there, by the dark streetlamp. At first Lena thought it was a dog, but when it tried to get up and fell back down, it became clear it was a person.

She picked up a flashlight, darted to the stairs before anyone else could even think of doing anything and got to the street without even sweating - being quick had its advantages, after all. As soon as she hit the tarmac her brain locked in skirmish mode, old courses of action coming to mind as she located the fallen person and searched for any potential danger around them. None found, she directed the light toward the person.

They were an omnic, and they had a nasty hole on the exact place where a human would have a stomach. Black oil bled through the wound and pooled on the pavement, and the right leg and arm were twitching and spasming on their own.

They tilted their head upwards and tried to reach for Lena. “Help me…” They cried out.

“Don’t move! You’ll lose more bl-- oil. I’ll call an ambulance, where did I put the phone…?” She searched every pocket, but apparently it was back at the flat. She crouched by the omnic. “Who… Who did this to you?”

The omnic tried to speak, but only a heavily distorted sound came out. In an impulse, Lena sat down and put their head on her lap.

“I’m sure help is on the way, luv!” She said softly, taking a better look at the wound. It was horrendous, it wouldn’t stop bleeding… She needed to do a compress there. “I’ll need a band of your cloth.” She was ripping a part of their shirt when she heard steps and looked back, seeing Ana, Fareeha and other people running to them. “Someone call an ambulance!”

A violent spasm made the omnic turn and shriek, grabbing Lena’s shirt. Their metal face could not convey emotions, but she could just feel how much pain they were in by their body language.

“I...I d-don’t…” They whispered.

“Hush, luv.” Lena pressed the cloth against the omnic’s wound, drawing a strangled cry from them.

“Let me see them!” Ana shouted, crouching down by her with a first aid kit that had a lot of things that _definitely_ weren’t just first aid, but military-level aid. Lena stepped aside as much as she tumbled in haste.

“I don’t want to die!” The omnic cried in terror as it saw the older woman grabbing a sort of dart pistol from the kit. “P-ple--”

Their voice died down as the lights on their body flickered and malfunctioned.

“Sorry child, I’ll have to put you in hibernation.” Ana said bluntly, and started looking for a port on the back of their head. Lena tried to help as she could, but seeing a gun that near someone’s head was making her really anxious.

“H-how are you doing it, Ana…?”

She didn’t answer; Instead, she opened the lid of the port with practiced ease and positioned the gun millimeters from it. She pulled the trigger and a cartridge came out, fitting perfectly into the opening with a soft click.

The lights stabilized on the omnic for a moment and they gasped like a drowning person searching for air, jolting forward and grabbing at Lena again in desperation.

“Help meeeee̸̡͡ee▓-ee▇ȩ̢̢͘e̛e̸̡͡e͜͠e͘█-ȩ̢̢͘e͘e̛e̸̡͡▓▓▓▒▒▒▒░░░░░”

As the word distorted and lost itself entirely in static, the omnic shivered and went completely still, lights dimming until they were out. They fell to the side and everything became silent for a second, as if all sound in the world was taken away with their conscience. Then people started talking over each other, arguing, calling authorities, asking questions without answers.

Lena was barely aware that Ana was talking to her as she stared at the omnic, unable to turn away.

That was life, flicking as a candle on the wind, easily extinguished at any given moment? That was all they could do for someone that cried out for help, that wouldn’t be coming back home? What about all they left behind, _the people they left behind?_

Ana slapped her hard.

“ _Flight Lieutenant_ , I’m talking to you!” Ana had a stern, commanding tone.

“Ugh… I’m s-sorry ma’am!” Lena gasped, breathing heavily, and straightened her posture.

“Pull yourself together, the police and the ambulance will be here soon with questions, it would be a shame if you were a babbling mess by then!”

“Ambulance? But you… you just…”

“Put them in hibernation, when all the functions of the body cease but the core. They’ll live, and if their body can be repaired, they’ll be woken up naturally. Have you never heard of it?”

“I…” She blinked, rubbing her face and looking back at Ana, mesmerized. “No, I haven’t… I… they’ll live…”

Ana sighed and shook her head. “You should go get some warm tea, child. There’s some in my apartment, fill yourself a cup and bring me one.”

Lena nodded. She could do that, it was simple enough…

Then she noticed that she was shaking and there was a distinct buzzing inside her ears.

“Can’t.” She said. “I’ll pass out.”

Ana raised an eyebrow, her sharp eye studying her with a wisdom older people tend to have, and she softened her expression. “Then I’ll be sitting here with you for a while. How does it sound?”

“Great. Thanks, ma’am.” Lena’s voice was full of relief and gratitude as she leaned on Ana and the older woman traced small, comforting circles on her back.

All around them people kept talking and talking, not ever getting to a consensus of who could possibly have shot the omnic.

 

\--

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chopin's Nocturne op.9 No.2 [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg)
> 
> Thanks Yumiru, Jrade and Yossarian for the help!


	8. Chapter 8

The only sound in the room was the noise of graphite tracing furiously against paper. The floor was covered in discarded sketches, some crumpled into balls, some undisturbed, and the rising sun cast a pale golden light on the room, filling it with an ethereal morning glow. Lena was too focused on her drawing to notice anything else, though.

She had the absolute worst night: seeing an omnic crying out in despair and almost dying wasn’t enough, she had to go to the precinct and talk about it in detail to the police, then wait there and endure the raging headache all the previous stress brought her. At least Ana and Fareeha were with her the whole time, so she didn’t feel completely vulnerable.

Oh yeah, and she couldn’t sleep when she got home by the way, so she was sleepy, hyper-aware, ill, sad, _exhausted_ , a bit hysterical and, last but not least, she was so, so angry.

Her drawing reflected that. It was a quite chaotic mass of strokes playing with negative spaces, forming the silhouette of an omnic reaching out for something out of the page. Lena was having trouble drawing their expression (Technically it was the shape of their face, but it still tended to portray something), it was strange, unbelievable. She crumpled and threw another sketch on the opposite wall, grunting.

What was she even doing?! It was clear that it wasn’t a good time for her to draw. She was too tense and exhausted at the same time, and her mind wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Great day already.” Lena mumbled to herself, putting the sketchbook aside and hugging her legs.

She was tempted to go and ask Ana to knock her out for some hours, she knew her neighbor could do that. In fact, she doubted there were things she _couldn’t_ do.

“Hey, what’s up…?”

Emily’s tone was soft as a lullaby this time, and Lena wouldn’t have looked at her if that wasn’t really strange. It was the sort of tone she used with Amélie, not with her. She was definitely not on the same tier, not even near it.

“You wake up early.” Lena observed.

“That’s relative.” Emily crouched and picked up one of the sketches. “And judging by the state of your floor, I’d guess you didn’t sleep at all, am I right?”

She just looked away as an answer. Emily sat by her side on the bed, leaving a respectful distance between them.

“What is so serious to leave Lena Oxton, street artist, waitress and full-time ray of sunshine in this state of sorrow?” She asked, still soft, still looking at her with those pretty blue eyes.

“...Ray of sunshine?” Lena frowned. Was she kidding her?

“Yes, the kind that comes after the storm to brighten the day.”

She didn’t even stagger to say it, nothing in her expression denoted sarcasm. It was serious, and that was surprising. Wasn’t she the one that loved to tease her?

“Are you high?”

“Would you prefer if I was?” Emily smiled. “I’m not teasing you. Not when I could feel the suffering from the living room, you know.”

Lena just looked down for a while. What could she say to that? “I… it’s been a rough time... I can’t sleep. I want to punch something.”

Emily nodded, thoughtful. “Which one would you like to do first?”

“Uh… sleep, I guess? I’m wasted. But my mind…” The weight of the world seemed to be on her shoulders, her voice low and tired. She looked smaller and feebler than ever.

Emily wanted to hold and lull her to sleep. Seeing her distraught like that was not something she could take easily.

“Can you close your eyes?” She asked.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “I like the style, luv, but you could just ask me if you want a kiss.”

“What would be the fun in that?” She chuckled. “C’mon, close your eyes, get comfy and focus on my voice.”

“Hypnosis, then?” Lena stretched her arms and turned to lay properly on the bed. Emily tried to get up and sit on the floor by her side, but Lena grabbed her hand. “No, stay, it’s ok.”

They looked at each other and she smiled weakly. Emily passed a hand lightly through messy hair and smiled too, reassuring, and then Lena closed her eyes.

“I will ask you to imagine some stuff, ok? We’ll start by taking some deep breaths and then move to it. You’re always in control and you can break out of this by just opening your eyes, I want you know that.”

Lena grunted some acknowledgement and stood still, waiting.

“Breathe with me. Inhale… All the way to your belly... Hold… Exhale fully.” She sighed, satisfied. “Again?”

They went through some more breathing exercises, and Emily thought that Lena was oddly disciplined for someone so electric. That, and the fact that she was pretty much adorable trying to relax, making unconscious grimaces.

“Great. Now you’re laying on your bed.”

“Obviously?” Lena mumbled.

“Hush, darling!” Emily rolled her eyes, but still smiled. “Anyway, just feel the space around you. Your bed. Is it comfortable? Is the weather pleasant?”

“It’s a bit chilly. My bed is nice, soft. It’s a bit old, though.”

“I want you to imagine that you get up and go to the door, ready to open it.” Emily’s voice was soft and assuring, pleasant to hear. Lena looked like she was trying to focus. “You open the door, and you see yourself in a semicircular hall with three open doors in it. They show you three different places.”

“Which ones?” Lena asked.

“A beautiful park, with a stone pathway and benches, with trees casting a gentle shadow against the hot sun; a beach with white, soft sand and a sea so clean and peaceful that you can see coral reefs far away; and a cottage in the mountains, built on an elevation overlooking a thick pine forest, where you can see the clearest dark sky, full of stars. You have this sense that all those places are welcoming towards you, and you can explore them with no fear.”

“Do I have to choose?” Lena asked.

“If you wish. You’re in control here, if you have anywhere else you want to go…”

Lena went quiet for a moment.

“I… Always wanted to see the northern lights.”

Emily inhaled and held her breath for a moment. Northern lights, a natural light display around the Arctic regions of the Earth, caused by disturbances in the magnetosphere because of solar winds. Beautiful, dancing lights surrounded by myths from different cultures. Emily had never seen them in person, she realized. However, the knowledge and muse magic were there for these exact occasions.

“You notice a fourth door opening by your right. It brings a cold breeze and the night landscape of a tundra plain covered in snow.”

“I enter this one.” Lena smiled.

“The first thing you notice as you step in is how cold the place is, but you also know it won’t hurt you, as something like a layer of warmth shields you. This place is peaceful - you see some bare trees covered in fresh snow, and on the sky above countless stars, more than you could ever dream to see in the city.”

“What do I gotta do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know? Maybe walk around, run?”

“Then run.”

And she did. In her mind’s eye, Lena was running, her feet sinking slightly on the snow, the plain extending itself endless in front of her. It was pleasant to feel the cold wind on her face.

“Run as if you’re leaving all the thoughts behind, Lena. Think of every worry, pain, disappointment, heavy feeling. They’re crystallizing into dark ice crystals over you. However, they can’t stick as you run, so they just fall behind.”

There was a rush of thoughts she had been trying to push aside for the sake of the exercise, but have been fluctuating in and out of her mind like intruders. With Emily’s words, Lena took a breath and invited them in. All at once they came down on her, impossibly heavy: the anger, the apathy, the helplessness...

A voice she knew all too well started echoing in her ears.

_Lena Oxton, disappointment. Broken, useless, wired wrong. Shame on her blood, shame on her country, shame on herself._

She ran, and she noticed she was running from the inside more than anything else.

 

_They can’t stick as you run._

 

Some things Lena could feel going out of her, fluctuating behind her softly, heading to the floor as ice crystals. Some she felt burning under her skin, clenching their claws inside, unwilling to leave. Those hurt so much.

“As the bad things fall away the lights come green and white, dancing in the sky. You know you don’t need to fight anymore.” Emily said.

She… didn’t need to fight? But it _hurt._ She wanted it _away_.

“The lights are familiar, they feel like things you love. Your friends. Drawing, chatting with people. Kissing ladies, old movies and cheesy catchphrases. Dancing with yourself to indie rock and headbanging to punk, singing the lyrics you know by heart.”

Those things… yes, she liked them. She stopped running to look at the lights.

“You think I’m a disappointment, Emily?” Lena mumbled, distant.

“Who would think such thing?” The outrage in her voice was almost tangible, and a compliment. “You’re amazing, Lena. Do you even know how difficult it is to find a dork like you? It’s _damn_ difficult. I know, I’ve been watching people for a long time.”

Lena sighed and opened her eyes. She looked absolutely worn out, both physically and mentally, but her smile had a hint of relief on it. “Thanks for doing this, Em.”

And she started crying.

Emily passed her fingers through Lena’s messy hair, making it even more chaotic. “It’s ok.” She whispered. “Just cry it out.”

Lena cried quietly, but that was probably because of exhaustion. She ended up curling around Emily, who unceremoniously moved to sit with her back to the wall and brought Lena to her lap. It took some time, but the woman feel asleep this way.

 

\--  


_There’s a playlist on your spotify account, cookies and a mysterious card on the coffee table. Call Amélie when you find out what it is, I’ll be there with her._

_Emily_

 

Lena tried to read the post-it twice before her eyes actually focused and let her do it. Emily had to stop putting those memos on her forehead as she slept, there were certainly better ways to ensure she’d see them first thing as she woke up.

Well, this way certainly was fun for her, but anyway.

She practically rolled out of bed, dragging the blanket through the bedroom before letting go of it and heading to the bathroom. After a quick bath and fresh clothes, she finally went to the living room looking for the cookies, and was surprised to find a whole bag from a fancy place she mentioned days earlier. It wasn’t more than a comment, barely noteworthy, yet Emily remembered and picked some different flavors for her to try out. Damn observant woman, she was.

Lena smiled. Observant and nice, by the way. She remembered the way she just stood there and supported her while she cried to sleep, and she wished she could one day rest on her lap like that without the heavy stuff. She’d be happy and silly and probably a bit bouncy from enthusiasm, and it would totally never happen.

_Back from the clouds, Lena._

She took a bite of a cookie and noticed the business card laying on the coffee table right by the paper bag, as Emily said it would be. She picked it up and turned it on her fingers - it was blank on a side and had a QR code on the other.

Emily was certainly a cryptic little shit too, wasn’t she. Couldn’t tackle anything without making Lena dance around the topic.

Did she actually know Lena liked that, behind the protests?

_Damn mind, behave._

Scanning the code lead her to a website for an “Anger Room”, a place to go and wreck stuff there in London. Lena raised an eyebrow. She didn’t even know such a thing existed, but it looked pretty cool and on point with her feelings. She was quick to call Amélie after taking a better look at the site.  


\--  


“All the protective gear is in place” A black man with an easy smile checked their gloves, jumpsuits and riot helmets one more time and nodded. “You girls ready?”

“You bet your arse we are!” Lena was bouncing on the balls of her feet and rolling her shoulders like.a fighter before a match, an excited sparkle in her eyes.

Emily chuckled and picked up a sledge hammer from a rack, weighting it on her hands. Lena picked up a baseball bat.

“Amé? Will you choose anything?” She asked, smiling behind the mask.

Amélie stared at the “weapons” rack with a hand on her chin, clearly considering what to pick. “I… don't know, _chérie.”_

Contrary to what one would think, it wasn’t Lena or Emily who convinced the woman to come with them, but Amélie herself that expressed her desire to do so. _Watching you break things might be interesting,_ she said.

“What’s the most extra weapon you have around here?” Emily asked the employee with a little smug smile.

“Well… Oh! One moment!” His smile broadened and he went out of the room.

They stood there in silence for about a second before Amélie asked, frowning: “The _most extra_ weapon, _chérie_?”

Emily just had time to wink before the man came back with a shiny metal pole with an engraved snake skin pattern all over it and a snake head at the end.

“We found this in a scrapyard. No one knows what it was used for previously, but it’s very sturdy and popular.” The employee put the pole in Amélie’s hands as if it was a family heirloom, and she examined it for a moment. It wasn’t bigger than a broom but it was heavy, made from thick metal.

“ _Merci.”_ She showed him a satisfied smile and turned to the other women. “I think we can go now.”

The man nodded and opened a door. “Remember, the only things off limits are the speakers on the walls and each other. Have fun!”

Lena almost squeaked from delight as she ran into the next room. Emily and Amélie exchanged a look, the first shrugged and they went after her.

They found themselves on a medium-sized room covered in graffiti, furnished like a trashy living room from decades past: it had a tube tv, a crumbling couch, a side table with a--

Before they could properly register everything there, Lena swang the bat at the night light on one of the side tables and sent it flying across the room.

“Right on target!” She cheered, a wild look in her eyes. “C’mon, let’s do this!”

As if on cue, rock music started playing on the speakers on the walls. The playlist Emily made was called “Music for destruction”, after all.

Lena’s smile was the one of a child in an amusement park when she jumped onto the couch, tried to hit an old telephone on the other side table and failed miserably. Emily, with just a little bit of a mischievous expression, hit the back of the couch with the sledgehammer, making Lena lose balance and jump/fall off of the thing.

“ _Oi!”_ She screeched.

“Sorry darling, getting used to the weight of this thing!” Emily laughed, leaning the sledgehammer on her shoulder, then turned to Amélie.

She was hesitant and Emily understood it. Amélie was not a person comfortable with chaos. Her fury was cold, her mind, focused, she was used to making a plan and sticking to it. Doing things for the sake of just doing them was weird for her.

“Think of the things you hate in your life, Amé. Smack this stuff as if it was the embodiment of them.”

“Why are you _talking_ and not _smashing?!”_ Lena shouted. The sound of broken glass and laughter followed.

“Because we’re sensible ladies, _chérie_ .” Amélie replied with a sharp disinterest that made Emily laugh and Lena stick her tongue out at them. “But don’t worry, _sauvagerie_ will commence soon enough.”

She took a last look at her fancy metal bar styled like a snake. _Think of everything I hate, huh? That’s easy_.

Then she thought, and the first thing that came to mind was herself. _Of course,_ she argued. _It’s only natural that I think of this dreadful thing I have become._ She killed Gérard, after all - not directly, of course, but if not for their argument he’d be paying better attention to the road and the accident would never have happened, thus making her guilty.

Amélie thought, in humorless amusement, of swinging the pole at herself, what it would do to her head. If it was strong enough, would that snake snout open a gash on her temple or cause a concussion? Would she have an internal hemorrhage? If she was lucky enough, would it take her away from the world?

 

It could be good, alright...

 

_But_

 

there was something else.

 

She heard the sound of laughter and looked up at Lena and Emily happily smashing one of the side tables. Lena, so lively and sweet, hair always wild and smile always ready. Amélie could almost feel how sad she’d be with her death, how she’d sob at Emily’s shoulder that she did everything and still couldn’t help, that Amélie was _good._ She seemed to believe that, no matter what. Amélie didn’t want to make her sad… Angela too, her nice, impressively busy cousin that always seemed to find a bit of time for her between appointments and research. And Emily! Her absolutely stunning redhead with smart, everchanging eyes. She came from her _world_ because of her. It would be absolutely unfair to let her down like that. But then again… She was a disappointment, a broken thing. No one should expect anything else from her, she definitely would let them down.

Yet, they stood by her side and believed in her.

 

_Still..._

 

“Urgh!” Amélie swung the pole against the first thing she saw - an old microwave - and it went right through the front of it. It felt _good_.

She suddenly understood what Emily said about channeling all she hated to the stuff she’d break. All that frustration, confusion, apathy… She raised the pole again and hit the thing once, twice, seven times. She was a disappointment and she’d relieve all her bottled rage of herself on that innocent kitchen item, thank you very much.

“Whose face are you projecting on this table to hit it so hard, Lena? Mine?” Emily joked, giggling.

Lena stopped with the bat millimeters from the wood and raised an eyebrow. “Yours? Luv, that’s definitely not what I’d be doing to you.”

Emily was suddenly very aware of their proximity and the heat rising on her cheek and ears, which had nothing to do with physical effort by the way.

“Smooth, Lena, smooth.” She replied, a devious smile appearing on her lips before she turned and went to the tv with a particular swing on her hips - of course she knew Lena would be staring - and hit it right at the screen. “So what are you thinking of?”

 

Silence.

 

“The wankers who’d beat an omnic to death.” Lena whispered.

“Is that… what happened?” Emily turned to face her again. There was a shadow over her expression, a serious look that she never saw on Lena’s face before.

“No. They… They were shot. On the street.” Lena raised the bat. “They almost died on my arms.” And then she hit the side table, finally ripping off the top of it, reducing it all to rubble.

“I’m so sorry…!”

Lena kept her eyes on the destroyed piece of furniture. “Only thing I could do was to try to stanch the bleeding as they cried out. And it was _useless_!” She tightened the grip on the bat, raising the voice. “If Ana hadn’t got there…!”

Then she lowered it on the couch with all the strength she could gather. The side of the armrest sank with the first hit, and even more with the second. Lena needed so much to let all that frustration loose onto something that she didn’t notice how desperate her assault gradually became: she kicked, roared and swung the bat carelessly until her vision blurred from tears and motion, she tripped on her own foot and was held by both Emily and Amélie before she fell on her face.

“Easy there, darling.” Emily said, pulling her up.

Lena looked at her with urgent eyes and hugged her, hiding her masked face on her shoulder.

“I’m _sorry_ …”

“It’s ok. Let’s take the helmet off, though. ” She took a step back and unstrapped both her helmet and Lena’s, taking them off and putting them on the floor. She then proceeded to give the woman a big hug, ruffling her hair. Amélie, on the other side, watched them both and wanted to join the hug but hesitated. It looked too personal, maybe Lena would be offended if she stepped in. She also took the helmet off, for good measure - no one would break anything soon.

“Amé, help me cover this _pétit mignonne_ in affection, will you?” Emily winked.

 _“Oui, ma belle.”_ She opened a small smile and approached, leaning on Lena and passing her arms around them both as much as she could. Being tall had its advantages. _“Tout le plaisir était pour moi.”_

“You two snobs, defaming me in French…” Lena mumbled.

“You don’t have a clue, _chérie._ ” Amélie chuckled.

What she did have a clue, though, was that she really liked being sandwiched in their hug, even if she felt like crap.  


\--  


After sharing a huge bowl of ice cream in a pub near the Anger Room, the emotions settled down and the trio finally felt exhaustion kick in. They were three women in need of a warm shower and a nap, so Amélie suggested they could go to her place and rest a while, and Lena immediately agreed. Emily, though, said she had to get back to work. No plead on Lena’s part could dissuade her of the idea, no matter how creative she got (there was even a promise of dyeing her hair in Emily’s color of choice, which she replied would be blue, but still wouldn’t make her stay) so they kissed her goodbye at the same time, one on each cheek, and left in a cab.

In Angela’s house, Amélie gave Lena a towel (the fluffiest towel she had ever seen, by the way) and a bathrobe, informing her there was a bathroom at the end of the corridor she could use to take a bath. Her bedroom had a bathroom en suite she’d be using herself.

The water pressure in that shower was so incredibly good Lena lost track of the time and took the longest bath. She got out feeling sleepy and relaxed, even if she wasn’t really that comfortable wearing only a bathrobe in someone else’s house. She knocked on the door to Amélie’s bedroom when the thought that she probably was also only in a bathrobe struck her, and she immediately blushed.

“Come in _.”_

Lena opened the door slowly. “Hey luv, your shower is really…”

There was no way for her not to trail off before the vision of Amélie sitting on her bed with a purple silk robe, her long black hair wet and falling carelessly on her shoulders, stunning golden eyes darting to Lena for a moment and back to the task she was focused in. Lena felt on fire, but she bottled it up very well. It was _not_ the time, especially when Amélie was taking care of her bad leg.

“Staring is rude, _chérie_.” Amélie said in a light, almost playful tone. It didn’t reach her expression, though.

She gasped. “Wow sorry luv, it’s just, you’re absolutely killer! I-I couldn’t help but stare.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Killer?” And went back to massaging her calf like she didn’t believe a word Lena said.

That rang an alarm on the Lena’s head. Did she say something wrong? Did something happen while she was out? Was she overthinking?

“Do you… need any help?” She took a step forward, but regretted it almost instantly. It was a dumb question and Amélie was proud; she wouldn’t accept it lightly.

Amélie ran her fingers lightly through the skin full of scars of her calf and shin before answering. “You know, my leg broke in seven different places from the accident.” She mused. “But what couldn’t be totally fixed was the severed ligament in my ankle.”

“Oh luv, I’m so sorry…”

“Seven blows on a bone and everything is ok,” She continued, her tone more and more bitter. “but snap a ligament and all hell breaks loose. We even tried magic, to no avail… And you know what’s the saddest part? If he was here, it wouldn’t matter.”

Lena felt at a loss for words. The pain and longing were so ingrained there, what she could possible say that would be strong enough to soothe them? Emily was good with this stuff, she was a mess. Besides, she didn’t know who Amélie was talking about. _How could she help like that?_

“Going with you to break things today made me realize something, Lena. I can’t forgive myself for what happened.”

Lena finally sat down by her on the bed, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to hear?” She replied.

Lena frowned. “Of course! You can always talk to me.”

“Well…” Amélie finally looked back at Lena. “ Then I’ll tell you about the night of the accident.”  


\--

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yossarian, Yumiru and Jrade for the help, you're the best!


	9. Chapter 9

It was drizzling that night, the temperature dropping more than usual for the season. A party was being held in one of Paris’ nicest venues in order to celebrate the end of the construction work in the last subway station of the new batch. The whole project had been challenging: there were all sorts of delays, unexpected problems, strikes and shortages, but two years and a half after the beginning, the new lane would now be complete. Politicians, businessmen and businesswomen socialized in the absolutely gorgeous hall from the XIX century, served with the best food and beverages money could buy, discreetly making alliances both dubious and beneficial for one another.

Gerárd Lacroix had stopped to talk to at least five people in his attempt to get back to his table. This sort of attention was unusual for him, but after uncovering and stopping the scheme of fraud and money laundering involving the previous contractor responsible for the construction of the subway lane, he was someone all those politicians wanted to be on good terms with. It was equal parts amusing and annoying, but he was familiar with the masks they used and could claim them for himself as he needed to put on his best smile. 

The prosecutor was a cunning man, but there were things even he couldn’t avoid. The absolutely bored and quite murderous look his fianceé gave him as he finally sat down was one of them.

“Ah yes,” She began, making a flourish with her hand to point around, “These prestigious work parties. Why did you bring me again, Gérard?”

Gerárd looked at her with amused eyes, smoothing his thin moustache.

“I thought you’d enjoy watching some scheming and backstabbing taking place, Amélie.” His tone was as soft as velvet. “Just like the shows you love so much, but happening right before your eyes.”

“How thoughtful.” She rested her chin on a hand, raising an interested eyebrow.

“Besides, they have the most magnific wine.” Gérard picked up an open bottle and poured it into Amélie’s glass, offering it to her afterwards.

“ _ Now _ it’s more likely,  _ chérie _ .” She chuckled, accepting it and taking a sip. “Tell me, how many of them tried buying you out with niceties yet?”

“Surprisingly, only two. Oh I’ll have these, thanks.” He stopped a waiter and picked up a plate of little refined snacks, eating one in a single bite. He then made a grimace. “Ugh, olives. Why do they always put olives…!?”

Amélie laughed, picking a snack herself. “Because olives are absolutely delicious, my dear.”

“ _ Lies.  _ You’ve been brainwashed by the olive-supporting media to think you like them, but in fact every human being loathes olives. The truth is out there! _ ” _

“What a brave new world we live in, controlled by the olive industry, happily brainwashed to have olives in our meals, suffering the woes of delicious taste and versatility. How will we ever be free?” Amélie put the back of her hand on her forehead, faking despair with an exaggerated expression.

“Exactly! You should join the resistance, clever lady, we’ll fight the woes of olives with the strength of an old baguette!”

Amélie tried not to, but started laughing almost immediately. “‘ _ The strength of an old baguette’ _ ? That’s ridiculous, even for you Gérard.”

“Thanks, I try.” Gérard managed to keep a straight, quite proud face when he said that, but a smile appeared on the corner of his lips soon enough.

They ate and talked about their daily lives, silly things and the other guests, both of them relishing in providing opinions on the fashion trends (or lack of) in the venue. Gérard, of course, wore one of his impeccable italian suits and had a keen eye for noticing when people’s suits were worn wrong, didn’t fit properly or were simply hideous and should be burned by the fashion police. Amélie always liked to hear him talking about clothes, it was a hobby of his that always fascinated her (not to mention improved her own sense of fashion) and provided good laughs. More than once she joked that he should give up on his prosecutor career and start a tv show on the subject. He usually replied something along the lines of “They couldn’t handle my tongue, you know how it is.” and she’d laugh and say he wasn’t as untamable as he thought. She, for one, could handle his tongue very well. That was usually the point where they started having other sorts of fun, by the way.

“Excuse me, would you happen to be miss Amélie Guillard?”

A young woman, barely out of her teenage years, approached the couple with expectant eyes.

“That’s me, yes.” Amélie opened a smile.

The woman’s eyes grew wide for a moment, and it was clear on her face that she was trying to keep her enthusiasm under control and was failing.

Gérard chuckled. “You got a fan, Amé! What a wonderful thing!”

“I-- You were amazing in  _ Giselle, _ I almost couldn’t take my eyes off you!” She said, almost embarrassed.

“The  _ ballerina _ wasn’t doing that good of a job, then...” Amélie’s smile widened, just a little wicked.

“N-no, that was not what I--”

“I know, I was just teasing.” She giggled. “Thank you very much for the compliment,  _ chérie.  _ Will I see you this next season? _ ” _

“Of course!” The woman’s face brightened with the prospect. “In the first row!”

“I’m really glad you like my work this much.”

“No, thank  _ you _ for being so good!” The woman laughed, nodded and went away.

Gérard waited for her to be at a safe distance before talking to Amélie again.

“It didn’t look like your work was the only thing she was interested in…” He drank the rest of his champagne in one go and got up, offering a hand.

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “I’d say she has good taste. Where are we going?”

“To the dance floor. Or you thought I brought you here just to look pretty?” He gave her that smile that, along with the mustache, made him look like a cartoon villain. She loved when he did that.

She loved less, though, when he didn’t tell her vital stuff like  _ the venue had a dance floor. _

Amélie got up without taking Gérard’s hand, fire sparking dangerously in her golden eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It’s not like I tied you to the chair while I went to chat with the politics,  _ araignée du soir _ .” He put a hand over his chest, faking wound, and started walking. “You could have explored the place.”

“And risk being an unintentional asset in someone’s political scheme? No, thanks.” She rolled her eyes. Of course she could be exaggerating, but the way things were in that world… Maybe she wasn’t.

“I feel like I should remind you that corruption is not an infectious disease transmitted by the air, even though sometimes I wonder.”

He barely finished the sentence before he stumbled into Amélie’s absolutely well placed foot and went right to the floor.

 

\--

 

When they danced, it was like their whole world was each other. Gérard and Amélie knew each other so well they could almost anticipate their movements like a well trained couple, even if Tango wasn’t her specialty - or his, for that matter. It was less about technique and more about flirting at that point: the way her inner thigh brushed against his leg as he held her and lowered them both for a moment, the almost tangling of legs as he stepped forward and she stepped back, the way she’d lean forward and lead him in only to turn on her own axis and stand with her back to him… It was a cat and mouse game, a very sensual one.

“Look at them, Amé. Absolutely perplexed with you.” Gérard murmured in Amélie’s ear as he ran a hand lightly through her arm, held her hand and turned her to face him again.

“Well, they wouldn’t look at  _ you, _ would they?” She caressed his neck and cheek, and tilted back in an arch before coming back to her previous position.

“Excuse me? I’m a rather charming man, I’ll have you know.”

“You can’t compete when I’m in the room, though.” She chuckled.

“That… is true.” He smiled as the lovely, goof charlatan he was inside, and Amélie couldn’t resist giving him a quick kiss. They missed the beat and ended forgetting to keep dancing after that, but no one was really complaining. In fact, the little audience that had gathered there cheered because of the display of affection.

“It’s good we agree.” Amélie concluded, straightening his collar.

Gérard’s phone buzzed in the inner pocket of his suit. He took it out, frowning. “From the office? At this hour…?” He turned to face Amélie.  “Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

He walked away in search of a quieter spot to answer the phone and, in retrospect, that could be seen as the moment things started going south for them that night.   
  


\--   
  


Amélie stormed into the precinct pushing the double doors with such a strength that one of the sides hit a wall with a loud metallic sound. 

“ _ Where is my Gérard?! _ ”

The officer behind the counter was visibly surprised, his eyes so wide they looked ready to jump out of their orbits for a moment before he tried to collect himself and talk to her.

“Ma’am, please stay--” 

“Stay calm your flat arse!” She cut, slamming a fist against the counter. “Gérard Lacroix, prosecutor, tall with a suit and a thin moustache,  _ where is he?!” _

“He is ok, Amélie! Calm down!”

Both she and the officer turned to the source of the voice and saw a black man in his fifties, with smart eyes and a serious expression. Amélie immediately walked to him.

“Mr. Beauregard! What happened?!”

“There was a frustrated attempt on his life.”

“ _ What?!” _

Beauregard noticed she’d start with the questions and added, quickly: “As I said, a  _ frustrated one. _ We already knew something like this could happen, so we had undercover agents to protect you two in the party. The criminal was caught before he could do any damage.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Because it almost certainly has to do with the money laundering case, chérie. Besides, I have to file a proper police report.”

Gérard appeared from behind Beauregard, looking tired and sorry. Amélie stood still for a moment, scanning his figure for any injure or bruise, and when she found none, she slapped him hard.

“Ouch! That’s what I get for surviving? Should I have died instead?”

“No, you  _ complete idiot, _ this is for the ‘Amélie, something happened, I’ll have to go to the precinct, take the car home’! You are  _ the worst,  _ Gérard Lacroix!”

Then she hugged him as tight as she could.   
  


\--

 

They stood there for quite a while, Gérard filling out whatever was requested of him, and Amélie sitting on the faded couch on the hall, shaken and miserable. Beauregard and others stood with her as they could, trying to comfort and assure her that the danger was over, but her mind could only think of the almost endless ways a new attempt on his life could happen, when, where… 

She’d need a sleeping pill that night.

When they finally got out it was past 3 a.m. and the drizzling from the beginning of the night had turned into heavy rain, maybe to better reflect their moods. They rode in silence, their minds full from the long night. Being in the car with Gérard helped soothe Amélie’s nerves a bit. His physical presence reminded her that he was ok, nothing bad would happen…

“I’m sorry.” Gérard placed a hand on her thigh, caressing it lightly. “I tried not to worry you but I made it worse instead.”

She put her own hand over his, but didn’t turn to face him. “Do you think they’ll try again…?”

“To kill me?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quickly and back to the road. “I really don’t know… But we’ll be a step ahead.”

“How can you be so sure?” Amélie’s voice was a pained whisper, like she was trying to keep it together but it required more energy than she had to give.

“We’re competent and more clever than them, my love.”

“We should get away from here for a while.” She finally raised her head, her eyes sparkling with urgency. “Go on vacation somewhere nice, somewhere  _ safe… _ ”

“Absolutely not. You have your ballet, Amélie. You can’t just leave it and I have to work even harder--”

“It will be irrelevant if you die, you know!” She could not hold it anymore, the tears came and she shook her head, in an useless attempt to make them go away.

He smiled. “Oh but haven’t you heard? Nothing can kill your gorgeous fianceé. He’s immortal!”

“Fuck you, Gérard. It’s  _ not the time! _ ” She hissed.

“Sorry, sorry…” He put his hands up in a peace gesture, then back on the steering wheel.

“You should take better care of yourself, you know, what if they--”

The car came out of nowhere on the intersection and hit them on Gérard’s side, so violently that it dragged them an impressive distance before finally stopping. By then, both cars were an unrecognizable, compact wreck.

It was a drunk driver way above the speed limit, the experts would point out later, an accident caused by chance, not by a dark, murderous scheme. Not that it mattered much when people were dead, anyway.

As the rain fell down and mixed with blood on the pavement, Amélie, losing consciousness at an alarming rate, looked at the empty road without really seeing it and thought that her life was over, and it was such a pity she wouldn't be able to perform next week on the season's premiere. She trained so hard for it…!

It was such a pity.

 

\--   
  


Amélie thought she’d had a hard time retelling the story. For her surprise, though, she felt numb through all of it. She laid down, Lena sitting by her side, and it was like her lips moved on their own, with no emotion coming out, and when it was over she stared at the ceiling with her mind empty like the void.

She wouldn’t have noticed that Lena cried if she hadn’t heard the hushed sobbing.

“I’m so sorry, Amé…” Lena whispered. “I… Is it ok if I hug you?”

“I suppose.”

Amélie prepared to sit but before she could, Lena was laying down by her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t bad or inappropriate, just… Unexpected. Unreasonable. She had just told her how she freaked out, argued and distracted Gérard enough that he didn’t notice the car coming. Why was Lena trying to comfort her? It was her fault it all happened, she was getting what she deserved and she thought Lena would see the truth of it.

“...Why do you stay?” Amélie managed to say, despite the torpor.

“What do you mean? Why would I want to go away?” Lena tilted her head upward a bit.

“If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be distracted…”

“Oh no, don’t you dare finish that thought!” Lena used a commanding tone that surprised Amélie. She was usually so sweet and upbeat, it was strange to see it. Before long, though, her expression softened to something warm and comprehensive again. “You two were tired, it was really late, the other car was at an ungodly speed, how is it that your fault, Amé? It would’ve happened regardless.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t either.” Lena smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Your mind is lying to you, luv. It’s trying to make sense of what happened, but it’s doing it wrong... I know, I’ve been there.”

Amélie fell silent, absorbing her words. They seemed to spin inside, odd and somewhat wrong. How could she not be responsible? The facts were clear in her mind, she couldn’t deny them, but…

Something seemed to block her throat, making it hard to breathe. Her soul felt like it wanted to get out of her body, lightheaded as she suddenly was, and it was a struggle to think coherently. Still, she tried - she had to ask something.

“Then why did it happen?” It was a stuttering whisper, but it got out. Amélie looked right at Lena as if trying to see her soul, desperate for an answer. “If not for my carelessness… why?!”

“Because that’s how life is, I guess.” There was a deep sadness in her eyes. “Sometimes we just lose the things we love. There’s no explanation, it just… Is. It hurts so much, it tears us apart and it’s ok to feel that, but you… You’re keeping it inside as hatred for yourself and that’s really no good, luv. You can let it go.”

“It won’t leave...” Amélie replied, pained.

“I know. It’s hard, it’s so hard… But I’m here, ok? I’ll just move if you tell me so. I love you and Angela loves you, Emily  _ totally definitely with cherries on top  _ loves you…” Lena giggled, and it was frankly adorable. “You won’t be alone, promise.”

She didn’t deserve that much affection. Those people were awesome and she was so lucky to have them into her life, it pained her to see them trying and giving her love when she was broken and couldn’t even react properly.

“Thank you,  _ chérie. _ ” Amélie finally hugged Lena back, moving so she’d be able to lean her head on her shoulder. Lena immediately started running fingers through her damp hair, untangling some strands gently.

They laid there in warm silence. It was strange, Amélie thought. She didn’t even know that woman months before, now they were laying together and her touch calmed her somehow. She focused on it and felt grounded. Safe, even. That was totally crazy and quite welcome, if she was honest with herself.

Amélie had to forgive herself? She didn’t know if she could do it, the road was steep and tempestuous but maybe, just maybe, she could try and take some steps to make her girls proud.

Her girls and Gérard, wherever he was.   
  


\--

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Gérard...
> 
> Thank you Jrade, Yossarian and Yumiru for beta reading <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a bit of NSFW - just so you know. o/

It started as a silly idea while Lena was watching TV in Angela’s living room. Amélie had been sleeping for some time, and it brought a smile to Lena’s face to think she felt comfortable enough to let herself be cuddled to sleep like she did. The young woman thought ‘ _Damn! She’ll be bloody hungry when she wakes up!_ ’ and her own stomach grumbled in response. It was time for the famous Oxton’s culinary adventures, where she would certainly find a lot of dangers and barely get out alive with her prize.

She felt a bit shy of searching Angela’s kitchen without her consent, but the doctor certainly had better things to do than answer a call about the subject and Lena knew she’d probably approve of it anyway, so she went in and bravely scouted the unknown lands of cupboards and kitchenware, descended into the depths of the refrigerator shelves and almost caused a tragedy with the peaks of cooking pans in order to get whatever she needed to cook.

The dashing adventurer mixed the ingredients by hand in order not to make too much noise with the blender, poured the resulting mixture in a pan and put it over the flames of the merciless Mt. Stove, where she was tempted by the sweet smell of the blessed nourishment she was making. Clever as she was, Oxton knew that was all a ruse to make her fall from grace - she couldn’t enjoy that food, not yet. So she performed that cooking ritual again and again, pouring mixture, cooking it, taking it off the merciless flames and coating it in a layer of sugar and lemon with the love of a believer.

When the last piece was in place, she admired her work with pride, gathered the required tools and took it carefully with her to the humbling steps that led to the temple where the golden-eyed goddess slumbered.

Oxton entered the ancient place and was baffled by the goddess’ beauty and serenity as she slept. She put her offering aside on a proper pedestal and reached out for her, touching her pale shoulder softly.

“Amé…?” She said softly. “Hey bird, wake up…”

The goddess shifted a bit, making incoherent, sleepy noises, and turned slowly to face Oxton. Her eyes were red and swollen from sleep and crying, but she opened a weak smile and it was all the adventurer needed to confirm that she really was one of the most beautiful women she had seen in her life.

“Hey…” the goddess was trying to tame unruly hair, such a human gesture that made Oxton giggle.

“I made you pancakes.” The adventurer tilted her head towards the pedestal where her offering laid. “I didn’t know your preference so I went with the usual sugar and lemon but hey, you’ll like them I promise!”

The goddess looked from the plate to the adventurer, and her golden eyes were now honey, her smile a relief and a light of hope. “Oh _chérie…_ You’re a real charmer.” She took some hair out of Oxton’s face and kissed her forehead softly, the offering accepted. Oxton then had her prize: an improvement on Amélie’s mood since their heavy conversation.  


\--  


“Amé…” Lena began, stuffing a piece of pancake carelessly in her mouth.

“Yes?”

“I gou u ar nog--”

“Swallow before speaking, you rude child.” Amélie shook her head, chuckling, and Lena rolled her eyes.

She chewed impatiently and swallowed before resuming conversation, with an annoyed look of “Better now, mom?!” in her face.

“So, as I was saying” Her expression then turned into something more serious.  “I know you’re not comfortable with dancing because of your leg, but… Would you teach me how to dance?”

The question was so unexpected it caught Amélie off-guard, in a way that would have been funny if Lena didn’t worry a lot about her reaction. “Teach you…?”

“Y-Yeah but hey, it was just an idea!” She stuttered and shifted on the couch a bit, embarrassed. “A stupid, very, _very stupid_ one! Cor, forget I even-- _”_

Amélie covered her mouth with a hand. “Shush, I'm surprised, that’s all. Why the sudden interest?”

She removed her hand and Lena blinked twice, but didn’t answer - instead a blush started rising on her cheeks, and that just piqued Amélie’s interest more.

“So?” She encouraged.

“I wouldn’t say sudden…”

“Uh-huh”

“Er…”

Amélie gave her a moment to collect her thoughts and talk, but all it did was leave Lena even more tomato-colored. It made Amélie smirk. How clueless was the girl that her emotions were stamped on her face?

“It’s because of Emily, isn’t it. You want to impress her.” She purred.

“ _No!_ ” Lena pulled herself away, eyes wide, suddenly pale - completely readable.

“Really? Even with the way you look at her?”

“It’s not-- you two-- argh, bloody hell! Yes, yes it is because of her. Happy?!” Lena felt like hiding into a hole and not coming out ever again. Why was she having this conversation with Amélie, of all people…!?

_Yeah Lena, good start, admit that you’re head over heels for the girl that fancies the woman you’re talking to, you bloody idiot!_

“Very.” Amélie was visibly exhausted because of all the emotional strain from before, but the subject seemed to make her happier somehow, just like the pancakes she devoured systematically. Lena really made good pancakes. “I’ve been wondering if you’d act on it.”

“Wait, what? But aren’t you two…?” She was trying to find a word to use, but none of them seemed to convey the sort of rapport they had. She was so embarrassed there was a chance  the words were purposefully leaving her brain too, because a useless lesbian like her just can’t function properly under those circumstances, right?

“Lovers? No.” Amélie chuckled. “I don’t feel like I’m ready for this yet.”

Lena felt really bad because of the relief those words brought her. She didn’t want to be this sort of person, the one that snatches significant others from people... Especially Amélie, that she now knew had this trauma because of Gérard’s death. Regardless of her feelings for both of them, she had to make sure she was doing things right this time. She was not going to hurt anyone by being purposefully ignorant on the important matters.

“...But if you were…?” She asked slowly, frankly a bit afraid of the answer.

“Then you’d have to share, _chérie._ ” Amélie’s smile widened. “There’s no way I’d let you have her all for yourself. She did come here for me, after all.”

Lena looked like she was ready to give an offended reply, but gave up on the last second and just sighed painfully, sinking into the couch. “You’re right. Ugh, she’ll never even look my way!”

Amélie had a strong urge to roll her eyes and slap Lena until she saw the obvious truth, but she refrained from it. Such a foolish girl! Did they really not see the same thing? It was true that Emily devoted most of her time in the mortal realm to Amélie - the woman wasn’t going to lie and say she didn’t adore the company - but it was also true that her smile always changed when Lena was in the room. She usually got so much more playful and while she was always witty, her remarks gained a certain lewd quality to them. That certainly was not just because of the alignment of the planets or the global warming.

Well, human blindness could really be endless, she supposed. At least it would be immensely entertaining to watch Lena find things out for herself.

“Pull yourself together, _pétit imbécile._ ” Amélie shook her head and snickered.

“ _Oi,_ I understood that!”

“I’m going to teach you the basics. And don’t get your hopes up,” She added as soon as she saw Lena’s expression brighten. “I may not be that good of a teacher.”

That didn’t lower Lena’s enthusiasm one bit. “Oh Amélie thank you _so much!_ ”

She hugged the woman tight and started talking nonstop about how and when they could start the classes, what she’d like to dance, asked if she had to buy anything… Amélie stopped really listening when she noticed she was perfectly fine with talking to herself. All that noise would tire her impossibly if she paid too much attention.  


\--  


With all that happened, it felt like forever ago that Hana and Lena met Akande Ogundimu on a street as Lena finished a graffiti. Now, sitting on the first row of the full Esports arena with Emily and waiting for her friend to come over, Lena rethought the statement she once made that she doubted Esports would reach a huge popularity. It was just impressive how many people fit there, how many of them had signs for their favorite streamer, how excited everyone seemed to be... The stage was a show in itself, full of dancing neon and four huge screens on the wall behind, to ensure everyone could see what was going on from every streamer’s point of view. Currently those screens showed pictures of the designated streamer they’d be following (and that would be sitting at the computer right in front), and the third one had a picture of a confident Hana making a victory gesture with her hand, her name and handle in-game, D.Va.

“What are you doing with this cardboard, Emily? Why won’t you let me see it?! It’s unfair, I drew her bunny!” Lena whined, trying to see over the ginger’s shoulder or by her side, but she was always skillfully blocked.

“Relax, I’m not going to ruin your drawing.” Emily replied, but the way she laughed meant trouble, undoubtedly.

“Emily…!”

“Oh, don’t sound so disappointed, darling. That’s not how I want you calling out my name.”

Lena choked on air. Hard. Before she could do much more than that, though, Emily turned and showed her the cardboard. The white bunny drawn in pink lines was unmistakingly Lena’s work, but beside it and covering the rest of the area were writings in Korean - she could tell because she’d seen Hana writing before, that she had absolutely no idea of the meaning.

“You can write in Korean?!” Lena looked almost outraged. Could that woman do everything?! Was that a muse thing?!

“Actually no, I can’t. There’s a friend here with a paper and he showed me what to write” She giggled.

“Where?!” Lena looked around, eagerly. “There’s no one!”

“Oh there _is,_ right by your side _._ You just can’t see him because he’s one of mine!”

She looked delighted to pass this information. Lena groaned.

“Bloody muses…!” She shook her head.

“Don’t be rude, say hello!”

Lena turned to her left and waved. “Hello mister… What’s his name?”

“Clio.”

“Hi Mr. Clio. Thank you for the help with Korean!” She felt a bit crazy talking to the air, but then again, Emily was also a spirit. Maybe everyone was mad after all. ...Or maybe Emily was just mocking her, there was no telling. “So… What does it say?”

“‘No one can nerf our D.Va’” Emily looked quite proud, the line was probably her idea by the looks of it.

“Wow, she’ll love it! Can’t wait to see her face…!”

“I know, right?”

“You two are D.Va fans?”

They both turned to see a young woman peeking at them from two chairs of distance with eyes full of stars.

“Yeah, yes we are!” Lena opened a warm smile.

The woman could barely hold herself from squealing as she jumped to her feet and covered the distance between them in large, eager steps.

“That’s so cool! She’s awesome, I never met any other fans in person before!” The woman laughed as a child who just found their friend in a playground. “I’m Brigitte!” She offered a hand.

Lena didn’t answer. She lost all thought capability temporarily as she saw the strong, perfectly outlined muscles in Brigitte’s bare arm, then she looked at her radiant face and copper hair and all she could really think was _God, I’m gay...!_

Emily snickered at the pathetic scene.

“The useless gay here is Lena, I’m Emily, nice to meet you.” She slithered in front of Lena and shook Brigitte’s hand. “She’ll come back to Earth eventually.”

“ _Oi!”_

Brigitte laughed gingerly. She clearly wasn’t used to this kind of banter, but seemed to find it funny.

“I can’t wait to see today’s match. It’s the first time they do an event like this, isn’t it? I even made a sign!”

She went to her seat and brought back a piece of paperboard cut in D.va’s bunny shape, the icon printed impeccably on it. If she hadn’t just said she was the one to make it, it could very well pass as an official merchandising piece.

“That you did, wow!” Lena said. “It looks so professional!”

Before Brigitte could answer the lights dimmed, people started cheering and she ran back to her seat like a bolt. Someone shouted “Live now!”, the host of the show appeared on stage under a spotlight and started talking to the audience. It was all quite magic to watch.

“Should we put this thing up already?” Lena asked, divided between looking at Emily and at the action on stage.

“Nah, let’s wait for her.”

Lena nodded and they both focused on the stage as all the lights were directed there.

“Please welcome our contenders!” The host gestured to an entrance to the right, where a guy with a pink and blue mohawk emerged from, waving. Part of the crowd cheered and called him, jumped, raised their handmade supportive signs. “The first one…”

“You don’t have a clue how many people are watching this from the other side.” Emily commented.

“A lot of muses?”

“A lot of everything.” She smiled.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neither, actually. It just is.”

“Oh you never really _explain_ these things to me!” She pouted. It was always like that, Emily fired something mysterious about her “world” and simply left her hanging on it.

“Now, our third contender: Hana Song, better known as D.Va!”

They dropped the subject and raised the sign. A surprisingly big part of the crowd cheered for Hana, who entered the stage in her pink hoodie with bunny ears like she was going to a UFC fight. She stopped by the host and pointed to her face, she had two pink triangles painted on each cheek. She always had them on when streaming - and it meant she was playing to win.

“Comb them out, D.Va!”” Lena shouted.

Hana noticed them and winked, but as soon as she saw the sign confusion and then genuine - and kinda gobsmacked - joy came to her expression. She went to her seat almost jumping along the way.

The fourth contender was an omnic girl painted in turquoise and purple, and she looked really amazed to be somewhere so fancy.

As soon as she thanked her fans and sat down, the host started explaining the rules for that match.

 

\--

 

Hana had described the game for Lena as “a complex balance between choosing the best weapons and the best mobility to overcome the most adverse battle situations” multiple times before. She, however, could only chant “Deathly Mecha Battle in Space!” on repeat, often making the streamer throw anything she could find at her. Truthfully, Lena didn’t have a problem grasping the concept of the game and how things worked. She even played sometimes, but it unnerved her how the physics of shooting something at high speed worked in-game. It felt wrong, too quick and recoilless depending on the weapon type. Of course she was nitpicking and those things could very well be different in space, but there was no helping it - she just had to stick to other types of simulators. She was particularly good at racing ones, for example, so much that Hana could just barely beat her most of the time.

In that face-off, though, Hana and her pink bunny-hopping signature mecha were dominating the match. Two streamers were dispatched quite easily, the only one of them who could rival her was the blue omnic lady, playing an aerial rocket-launching mecha. It was beautiful to watch them engaging each other, the way D.Va’s defense matrix worked to neutralize the rockets, the way the omnic skillfully dodged bullets with pirouettes in the sky, explosions and debris flying all around them in 4k HD giant screens.

D.Va saw herself cornered in a lunar crater under heavy fire, in the end. The defense matrix was depleted and at the moment she used the thrusters to fly out, she’d be met with a rocket barrage and it’d be all over. The omnic’s fans shouted her name louder than ever in the audience, the commentators signaled Hana had to do something very quick or else she’d be crushed.

“C’mon Hana, you can do it!” Lena shouted. “Think of evasive maneuvers!”

“Go D.Va! We believe in you!” Brigitte shouted from her seat, getting up on an impulse.

Even Emily was holding the armrest of her chair tight.

D.Va decided to use the thrusters and fly out at full speed. Rocket-launcher deployed the rocket barrage, fully expecting her to try to avoid it, but instead D.va went straight ahead for her, getting hit directly but slamming the mecha onto her and initiating self destruct sequence. It was her special ability, much like the barrage was the Rocket-launcher’s, and it caused an explosion that also destroyed the other mecha. The trick was that her own Mecha was recalled with full life as soon as the explosion ended, thus crowning D.Va the winner of the match.

The crowd went wild with the unexpected ending. Brigitte ran back to Lena and Emily and the three of them hugged and shouted to each other several variations of “She won!” (Actually, it was more like Brigitte and Lena shouted while Emily laughed at all that excitement). Confetti was falling down on the stage as Hana greeted the other contenders, and she shared a tight and really meaningful hug with the omnic lady before the host of the show pulled her forward and started an interview.

“I told you, I told you she’d win!” Brigitte pointed to no one in particular and laughed. “She’s funny, she’s cute and she’s the deadliest mecha pilot, ha!”

“I wonder what you’d do if she noticed you.” Emily shook her head, still laughing. Who knew Hana had such a fangirl?

“Then I’d die in joy, dammit!”

Emily opened a tiny devious smile.  


\--  


“Do you think you had enough encouragement to get into the Esports scene?” The host asked, pointing the mic to Hana.

“Well, there was some resistance from my parents at first, but then…” She trailed off, eyes going wide as she noticed what was going on in the audience.

Lena was perched on the back of someone holding a paperboard with her bunny on it even higher, being loud and funny (or, in other words, being her usual self), but she wasn’t really the point of interest there - that would be the woman below her, a tall ginger with a bright smile, a pretty face and muscles that Hana really wanted very much to squeeze. The woman noticed she was looking at her and winked. Hana might have as well fainted from gayness at that point. She blushed and looked away, finding the host still waiting for her response. _Crap._

“S-so, as I was saying, my parents…”   


\--  


“Thank you so much Emily, oh _god_ , thank you!” Hana looked completely psyched as she, Lena and Emily crammed themselves on the cab’s impossibly small back seat.

“You’re welcome.” She gave Lena a smug look. “See, someone knows how to be grateful.”

“What? I did nothing!”

“Exactly - and I did put you sitting on those strong shoulders, having your legs held by those strong hands…” She wriggled her eyebrows and Lena scoffed from the other side of the seat.

“I wasn’t enjoying that part, I was trying to get Hana’s attention!” Lena whined and turned to Hana. “By the way you didn’t even tell us, you get her number or not?”

The girl just turned the paperboard Brigitte gave her, pointing to a place near the bottom. It had a number on it, hastily written yet following a perfect and invisible line.

“Oh yeah, and you say I am the lady killer!” She laughed.

“That’s because you are!” Both Hana and Emily replied.

“I… am not?”

“How many girls have you bedded since we met?” Emily raised an eyebrow for emphasis.

“Uh…”

“You don’t even remember!” Hana laughed.

“Oh fuck off you two, that’s none of your business!” Lena crossed her arms and pouted. Why was that important, anyway?

“It is not, you’re right, but boy is it fun to tease you over it.” Emily threw a bubblegum paper onto Lena, but she dodged masterfully and it went out the window.

“You know what I think?” Lena bragged, fully expecting the scoff and sharp reply that were sure to follow. “You just want a piece of me, luv!”

Emily stopped for a moment, gave her a rather lewd look and smiled. “I already got you whole, darling.”

Lena’s eyes went wide as plates.

“If you two plan on making out _please let me change seats first!_ ” Hana screeched painfully.

“Yeah Lena, let her _move_.” Emily’s voice was low and dangerously soft, a challenge that could be taken both as a mockery and a genuine request. It unnerved Lena that she never seemed to know for sure with her.

_Well she wants me to do it? What a bloody torture it’ll be, such a burden I have to take onto myself!_

She rushed to change seats with Hana, but that proved to be a mighty challenge in that small of a space. Emily leaned on her arm and watched the struggle.

“We’re here, ladies.” The cab driver announced shortly after the commotion started, quite in a hurry to have them out of his car, anticipating some sort of tragedy for sure. Regardless, as they paid and got out, they saw themselves in front of a suburban japanese restaurant squeezed besides two other commercial four-store buildings, looking serious and quite unremarkable aside from the colorful paper lanterns hanging on the front.

“I wonder what happened to British punctuality, huh.” A familiar snicker brought their eyes to the right, where Amélie was leaning on a silver sedan at a close distance. She looked striking with her hair untied and a dark purple dress that had a glossy quality. Lena waved with enthusiasm, Hana’s jaw dropped and Emily simply left their side unceremoniously to go greet the newcomer with a bow and an old-fashioned kiss on the hand.

“I know nothing about that, darling, but I do know you are absolutely _magnifiqué_ today.” She winked.

“...and that’s Amélie, Hana.” Lena chuckled. “Emily’s _real_ girlfriend.”

“Oh, so she is the famous Amélie!”

“ _Bonsoir, chérie_.” Amélie approached and nodded. “Congratulations for your victory, Emily told me you were amazing in the match.”

“Oh thank you! We could actually enter the restaurant now, right? We’ll talk there!”

“ _Oui._ I believe Angela has a table ready, she went in some time ago - unless she is just drinking at the bar, that’s a likely possibility.”

They found out Angela had the table ready and was also drinking, but the surprising part was how enthusiastically she was talking to an asian couple that Lena recognized as Hana’s parents. The girl didn’t expect them to be there at all - she froze at first and then ran to the table quick as a bolt, talking excitedly in Korean, and hugged them. The others accommodated themselves around them, smiling at the display of affection, and busied themselves with ordering the biggest sushi boat off of the menu along with other things.

Hana’s parents had watched her match from home because her mother got a strong case of the flu some days before and they didn’t want to risk going out with her like that. Hana thought they wouldn’t come to celebrate afterwards, but apparently they had been making the case seem worse than it actually was to surprise her, having Lena as an accomplice. It was a miracle that she didn’t spill it out, Hana commented, and Lena’s outrage made the whole table laugh.

“Mom, look what I got from a fan!” Hana raised the paperboard Brigitte gave her. “Isn’t it cool? I think I’m going to hang it on my door!”

“That’s lovely, sweetie!”

Right by them, Angela was devouring the food at an alarming rate.

“That is really good, Lena! How did you come by this place?”

“Oh I live a few blocks away, saw them opening business and all. If you think their _sashimi_ is good, wait for the _ramen_ …”

Angela squeaked in delight, making Amélie snort by her side. She, as always, was talking to Emily about something, the difference was that she was doing so while snatching _sushi_ from her plate like a master thief.

“Boy, when you said Amélie was damn gorgeous I thought you were exaggerating, you know?” Hana whispered to Lena at some point.

“I really wasn’t, luv. I’ve seen pretty birds but those two?” She gestured in Amélie’s and Emily’s general direction. “They’re a whole new level. Hey waiter! Can we have some _sake_ over here, please…?”

 

\--  


“...And then I told her to put Lena sitting on her shoulders, because that would totally draw Hana’s attention, and it worked!” Emily laughed. “It was so funny to see Hana getting redder by the second, and then afterwards they met on the backstage. They were both so useless talking to each other, but Brigitte had a better hold of herself, I guess, and gave her her number. So entertaining to watch!” She shook her head and directed the _hachi_ mindlessly to the plate, finding nothing to grab there. “Wait… where is my sus-- Amé!”

“ _Oh la lá_ ” Amélie shamelessly munched on the last piece of robbed sushi. “I guess a ghost ate them.”

“I guess this ghost will have to repay me later” She wriggled her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.

Amélie leaned towards her. “ _Oh non chérie_ , please clarify it for me.”

Emily got even closer, whispering. “They have karaoke on the back.”

“ _Mon dieu!_ I don’t think I’m drunk enough for that.”

“That can be arranged.” She sang. “Besides, don’t you want to see Lena singing some classic drunken karaoke song? Because I do.”

“And people say I’m evil. Tsk tsk. “ Amélie shook her head in mocked disapprovement. “Make her sing _My Heart Will Go On_.”

“Now that’s a perfect idea.” Emily replied in the same disinterested tone.

They stopped for a moment, looked at each other and laughed.  


\--

 

“Look at all these pretty people in my humble restaurant!”

“Genji!” Lena stood up and went around the table to place a kiss on the man’s cheek, looking like she had just been plugged into a new power source. “Long time no see, you crazy sushi ninja!”

Genji laughed wholeheartedly. He was a japanese guy with green spiky hair and an easy, chill smile. He had a cook apron and bandana, and his movements were aided by bracers as his legs turned in angles that wouldn't make it possible for him to stand on his own.

“Well of course, now you live in that guy’s bar on the other side of the street” He tilted his head towards the door and back. “Hanzo is still a bit salty from the last time he saw you going there, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hanzo has no chill at all.”

“Nope, but at least their war is very fun to watch.” He said happily, then turned to the others. “How do you like the food? Are you satisfied, do you need anything else?”

“Man, it’s delicious!” Hana had her mouth full, and her mother scolded her right after for it.

“Was it you that made it, Mr. Genji?” Angela took a sip of the sake they asked before. Lena had learnt quickly to take the bottle out of her reach, otherwise she’d dry it out in the blink of an eye. “It is indeed very good!”

“I did make it, and I’m honored that it is to your tastes.” He took a short bow.  “I should go back to the kitchen now, before people set it on fire. Please feel at home, you’re my guests!” He went away with a surprising agility for someone with bracers, dodging tables and waiters with practiced ease.

Amélie noticed his dexterity and watched him until he disappeared beyond the double doors of the kitchen.

_He does all that with bracers and you cry like a baby that you can’t dance without even trying serious physiotherapy sessions._ A side of her scolded, making her sigh. She was too used to it by now.

_His job requires skill with the upper half, not the whole body. He also must be very strong in his arms because of walking around like he does,_ her other side argued.

_That’s because he didn’t give up like you did._ The first side replied. _You coward._

“What the _fuck_ was in this cup?!”

The sudden outburst from Emily caught Amélie’s attention before the internal argument could get any worse, but she didn’t understand a bit of what was happening.

 

Well, judging by the other’s faces, they also didn’t.

“What’s the matter, Em?” Lena leaned towards the muse, even as they were some chairs away.

“One second there was water here, I put the cup down to talk to Angela and... Oh. _Oh fuck.”_ She coughed, her voice faltering because of the fire in her throat.

Lena burst into laughter. “You took Angela’s cup! Tell me you didn’t drink it all in one go!”

She didn’t answer, but her cheeks were turning a distinct shade of red and it wasn’t because of the cough.

“ _YOU DID!_ ” Lena couldn’t help but laugh like a dying hyena at that, clutching her stomach that soon started to hurt by the effort.

Hana ended up laughing more because of Lena’s reaction than Emily’s mishap and Angela turned to ask the muse if she was ok, because it wasn’t even _sake_ in the cup but whiskey she had ordered since sake was too weak. Hana’s parents were having a lot of fun with their daughter crazy friends and so was Amélie, but she also thought of the group with a different fondness and a notion that if she had succeeded in killing herself months before, she wouldn’t be there enjoying the night with them. Her heart tightened at the prospect - it was good to be there, and she noticed with a bit of surprise that she no longer wanted the alternative.

Learning that made her strangely happy. She knew that resolve of living could go away the next day or month, she knew bad days would come full force and things probably weren’t as good as they were looking, but what really mattered was that she was feeling good now and she was going to enjoy it.

With that in mind Amélie stood up and offered Emily a hand. “Are you still up for karaoke, _ma belle?_ ”

“With you?” She chuckled. “Always.”

 

\--  


It took the time of turning on the equipment for Lena to come like a puppy after them to the back of the restaurant, where the soundproof room was located.

“Are you two going to sing?” Lena asked, looking curiously at the karaoke.

“No _chérie_ , we were trying to lose you all and make out in a quiet corner.” Amélie said blandly and rolled her eyes, sitting rather theatrically on the sectional couch that encircled the walls.

“Oh I’m sorry then!” Lena put a hand over her mouth in a matching exaggerated motion. She was all for those games, after all. “Can I join in, by the way?”

“Only if you score a ninety-nine, darling.” Emily pointed at her with a mic and then to the screen, and gave the other one to Ámélie.

Lena felt electricity rising on her spine in anticipation. “Oh I’m so gonna rock this shit now.”

 

“Heeey, how come you leave us there at the table and don’t even invite us to karaoke?!” Hana practically slammed the door open and pointed the finger at them, with her parents and Angela close behind.

Amélie and Emily exchanged surprised looks that weren’t surprised at all, but they were good actresses.

“I thought you were going to inform them, _chérie_.” Amélie frowned.

“Well I thought _you_ were doing it - no matter, we’re all here now!” She chuckled. “You can be the first one if you want, Hana.”

“Yes I will!” She grabbed the mic from Emily’s hands and strode to the equipment. “They better have Korean music, baby!”  


\--

 

They did have Korean music and, in an unexpected turn of events, the Song family revealed themselves as great karaoke enthusiasts and singers. A waiter who went into the room bringing some drinks heard them and told another one, who told a cook that told Genji, and soon he was at the door watching the show.

“That was amazing!” He cheered as the song ended, startling Lena and almost making her drop her _sake_. “Mr. and Ms. Song, you should consider making a career out of this!”

“How long have you been there?!” Lena asked.

“Some time. It’s the ninja agility.” He winked.

“Oh thank you so much, young man.” Hana’s father finally answered, and by the red on his cheek and his open smile, it was clear that he was quite drunk. “Would you like to hear one more song?”

“Very much, yes!”

“Genji!”

A man with a stern face and partially gray hair tied back entered the room. He wore a nice suit and bowed when he saw the people there, in a courteous acknowledgement.

“Forgive me the interruption, I came to fetch my slippery brother. Genji! We need you in the kitchen!”

“What, already? There were no-- Ah forget about it. See you later guys!”

He went out as carefree as he came, with his stern brother close behind.

“Bye Hanzo!” Lena sang.

He stopped at the door and turned to face her.

“You. Traitor.” Was all he said before disappearing on the corridor.

Lena laughed. “No-chill Hanzo has no chill.”

“Well… I believe it’s best to let someone else have a turn then. Lena?” Hana’s mother offered the mic.

“O-Oh thank you Ms. Song!”

“What are you going to sing?” Amélie asked.

“Gay songs.” She laughed.

As if on cue, the instrumental to I Want to Break Free by Queen started playing on the sound system. She then proceeded to give then a really cheesy, exaggerated and drunk impersonation of Freddie Mercury on stage while she sang.

And the night went on with Lena singing the rock classics like London Calling _,_ Amélie giving both Lena and Emily gay panic singing in French with her velvety voice, Angela going with the corny karaoke classics that everybody sang along, Hana and her parents slaying on Korean and Emily… Well, Emily being a wild card and singing anything that would come to mind or that people dared her to (which she eventually asked them to do), which would be impressive already even if there wasn’t a tiny detail to be acknowledged: she got utterly drunk between a turn and other.

When she drank from Angela’s cup she absolutely hated the taste, the way her throat burnt and her head spinned afterwards. Emily wouldn’t have gotten near an alcoholic beverage after that, but Lena innocently offered her a taste of her sweet and heavenly drink mixed from fruit and _sake._ Then she just had to have a taste of the other flavours on the menu, ignoring the warnings that sweet-flavored beverages tended to make people drunk far easier than the rest.

It took her just one to accept singing Gangnam Style with Hana, choreography included. On the second she sat by Amélie and told her, looking her dead in the eye, that she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life and she wanted very much to kiss her all over. By that time Hana’s parents got to the conclusion that if the levels of drunkness were reaching that point, it was time to go home and take a protesting Hana with them. Angela tagged along, excusing herself with the fact that she had to work the next day, and suddenly there were only Emily, Amélie and Lena in the karaoke room.

A drunk Emily, a very amused Amélie and a dirty-minded Lena in a soundproof room.

“So, Lena,” Emily gave her a half lidded glance. “Remember how you asked me quite rudely when we met if I was a diva like Béyonce?”

“Yes…?” Lena suddenly felt too conscious of everything that was going on with her under those staring blue-brownish eyes.

She just smiled as she finished inputting the code for a song on the karaoke. Almost immediately the unmistakable beats and trumpets of Crazy in Love by Béyonce came alive on the stereo and Emily called Lena with a finger.

She got up and went to her almost automatically. _Yes ma’am, right away ma’am._

Amélie chuckled and pulled her phone once more to register the moment. There was no way she wouldn’t have proof that that night actually happened, especially when she had a really strong hunch of what would be going on next.

Emily gave Lena the second mic. “Sing this one with me, nice ass.”

Lena didn’t have time to reply before the sung part started and she stuttered to follow the tempo. When she did it, though, all went fairly well: She knew the lyrics by heart, they both were decent singers...

Then came the chorus and Emily pulled her close by the jacket.

 

_Got me lookin so crazy right now_

_Your love’s got me lookin so crazy right now_

 

She started rolling her hips against her, rendering Lena unable to do anything but stare--

 

_Got me lookin so crazy right now_

_Your touch got me lookin so crazy right now_

 

\--until she started moving back. She was actually quick to do that.

 

_Got me hoping you'll page me right now,_

_Your kiss got me hoping you'll save me right now_

 

“Don’t forget to sing, darling.”

Lena let out a frustrated sigh and did as she was told. Or tried to.

 

_Looking so crazy, your love's got me looking_

_Got me looking so crazy, your love_

 

Amélie recorded it all with a tiny devious smile. As the chorus ended, quick instrumental came to replace it and Emily started kissing her neck.

“W-What the bloody hell, Emily?!”

“Don’t like it?” She giggled against her skin, making her shiver even more than she already was.

“You’re trolleyed! We can’t just--”

Apparently Emily thought they could, because she kissed Lena like it was no big deal and the girl couldn’t help but melt under the touch. Boy, it was _good…!_

But it was also wrong.

“Emily _stop!_ ” Lena interrupted the kiss and held her by the shoulders at a distance. “I’m not gonna do this with you this wasted, bollocks!”

Emily sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes you’re just too... Good, you know?”

Lena didn’t know if she should slap her or herself.

“And you, miss, are in dire need of a cold shower!”

“Let’s bring her home, Lena.” Amélie got up, putting her cellphone back in her pocket with a satisfied expression.

“ _Blimey you were there!”_

“The whole time. Let’s go.”

 

\--

 

The night ended with them in Lena’s flat, trying to make Emily take a cold bath. When they finally could lock the three of them in the bathroom and went to turn on the shower, though, she simply vanished in thin air like she used to do all the time. Lena and Amélie stood there laughing for quite some time because of how stupid the whole thing was when you stopped to think about it.

Lena set up her bed for Amélie and absolutely refused to let her sleep anywhere else, so the French lady had no choice but to accept a big old pajama and settle right there with the comfort while the other girl took the couch. _It’s okay luv,_ Lena said, _I’ve sleep in places way crappier than this before._

Exhaustion finally caught up to her when she laid down and dragged the blanket up. What a day that was, she had so much fun! There was no way not to smile when she remembered everything that happened, Amélie agreeing to teach her how to dance, Hana rocking the face-off, Brigitte, the dinner, singing _Bohemian Rhapsody_ with everyone on the karaoke and-- _Oh._

_Emily._

Lena let out a frustrated huff. It was just her luck to have the woman she wanted so much indulge her like that and be unable to do anything in good conscience because she was drunk as hell. Bloody awesome, that was. Now she was left there to think of all the contact, the kisses on her neck, the satisfied noises…

Her hand slithered under the boyshorts and she bit her lips as she touched herself, thinking of what was and what could have been.

Then a slighty drunk idea crossed her mind and she stopped to consider it for just a second - and she kicked the blanket off and stared at the ceiling with a cocky and very defiant smile.

“You’re there, aren’t you asshole?” She whispered as if it was a well kept secret, and started taking out her panties. “You’re there _watching_. Always watching.”

Lena threw them to the floor, then the loose old shirt afterwards.

“Well watch this, then!”

She resumed the touching, now making sure everything was very visible, and it made her feel absolutely filthy as well as turned her on incredibly. What would Emily have done to her if she hadn’t stopped her? What would she do now if she decided to materialize again and take her there on the spot?

The prospect made her moan as she drew circles over her clit, but she tried to muffle it as she could because Amélie was in the next room.

_Oh my god what if she heard?!_

 

_Oh yes. What if she heard._

 

So very filthy she was.

 

“Do you like this, Emily? Do you like to see what you make me do?” Her whisper was hoarse, punctuated by heavy breathing and mindless desire. “Is this how you want me calling out your name?”

Lena slipped two fingers inside with a low growl and a lewd moan she didn’t muffle at all. _Yes, that was it. That was what she needed._ That would be her outlet for the tension of the day, and if Emily really was there watching, she would give her a hell of a show.  


\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the help Jrade, Yossarian and Yumiru, you are the best! <3


	11. Chapter 11

Lena woke up tangled with the blanket on the couch, feeling pleasantly relaxed and warm. She didn’t remember the exact details - and that was a pity - but she knew her dreams had been filled with affection, cuddling and very satisfying sex. It was awesome not to have nightmares or just be dreamless once in a while, especially when the good feeling of the dreams carried over to the waking world, but she had a hunch that maybe it was all because of the little show she made before sleeping. Damn, that was insane.

She noticed the smell of tea filling the room and her stomach rumbled, making her groan in turn. It was not the time to move yet! Couldn’t she just enjoy some quality time laying down doing nothing?

_Unfortunately not_ , her stomach seemed to say, _now give. Me. FOOD!_

Lena sighed and rolled out of the couch, got up and dragged herself to the bathroom.

 

\--  


“You have really poor eating habits, _chérie.”_ Amélie said as soon as Lena set feet in the kitchen.

“Good morning to you too” She replied, rubbing her eyes. “You made tea?”

“Since you don’t seem to have coffee…” Amélie pointed to the teapot on the stove. “Black tea.”

“Not allowed to drink coffee” Lena took a cup from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator, getting some milk. “I go _ziiiing!_ If I do.”

Amélie certainly didn’t know what she meant by that, but it probably had to do with an overload of energy, judging it was Lena they were talking about.

The girl mixed milk and sugar to her tea and took a sip, leaning on the counter. Then she frowned. “It’s a bit… weak.”

“It’s perfect as it is. You British people like it too strong.” Amélie said with a hint of disapprovement.

“Yeah, right…” Lena opened the cupboard again, searching. “I’m gonna add some tea to this weird water.”

Amélie shook her head. “So British.”

“Damn right, bird! Don’t ya mess with my tea!” She made sure to make her accent the most cockney she could, holding the laughter, but it was impossible to do it when she heard the very offensive thing Amélie said in French. Being French, it was a very stylish offensive at least.

“I’ll leave your tea undisturbed, don’t you worry. A pity you could leave _me_ undisturbed last night,” Amélie had a cynical disinterested face and soft words. “with all the moaning.”

Lena hit the teapot and almost threw it off the stove, in surprise. Then she stood very still, Amélie could see that her ears and even the back of her neck got instantly red, and that made her smile.

A knock on the door came to save Lena from the embarrassment and certain death that would come next.

“Be right back!” She shouted a bit too eagerly, disappearing through the kitchen door quicker than Amélie could react. A moment later there was a squeal from her and booming laughter that definitely wasn’t hers from the other room, then Lena reappeared in the kitchen perched on the back of a gorilla with clothes, glasses and a bowtie.

Lena reappeared in the kitchen _perched on the back of a gorilla with clothes, glasses and a bow tie._

 

_What the hell?!_

 

“Hey Amé, this is Winston! Winston, this is Amélie.” Lena had to get off of his back in order for them to be able to pass through the door, and she came practically bouncing on her feet from excitement. “Oh luv, you should see your face!”

“Nice to meet you, miss Amélie.” Winston offered a hand, an understanding smile on his face.

“I… _Mon dieu_ I’m sorry, Winston. It’s nice to meet you too.” She shook her head and took his hand, her polished manners taking over despite the complete and evident shock. Being a blueblood lady as she was, she refused to be uncourteous to Lena’s friend, even if he was that much unconventional.

“Don’t worry, I know I’m an one-in-a-lifetime event...” He shrugged, taking a paper bag out of his side purse. “Anyway, I brought donuts!”

“DONUTS!” Lena jumped at the package he was just starting to rise and ran to the table, tearing it apart as it was a long-awaited christmas present. “Oh you got the ones with rainbow sprinkles on them, I love you so much Winston!”

“What kind of friend would I be if I forgot your gay donuts? It’s our longest tradition!” He chuckled, dragging a chair away from the table and sitting on the floor where it stood. Even sitting he still had the height of a regular man, so it was easy to see him alright. “Just leave some for us, okay?”

She was already trying to fit one whole in her mouth. “O-gaai!”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Winston looked from Amélie to Lena, mildly concerned “I couldn’t reach you yesterday, so I called Ana and she told me to come, that you’d just probably be, and here I quote her, ‘drunk and naked with the ginger’ by the time I got here.”

Lena stopped mid-bite and let the donut fall on the table. “ _What?!”_

Amélie had a fit of laughter because of that. “ _Chérie_ , I think everyone-- _oh dieu --_ knows of your crush!”

“Great, it’s ‘bully the Oxton’ season!” Lena buried her face in her sugar-coated hands, regretting it immediately. “Fuck!”

“I’m… sorry?” Winston blinked, confused.

Lena groaned painfully.

“She’s really fallen and adorably idiotic for my Emily, Winston. Sometimes I think she’s going to hyperventilate into space when she’s near.”

“ _That’s not true! I don’t hyperventilate!”_

“You might as well, considering your face.” Amélie leaned her head on her hand, giving Lena a knowing look.

“Oh right, Emily!” Winston straightened his glasses, interested, and finally got a donut. “She did tell me about her, the woman that fell from nowhere in her bedroom… And about you too, miss Amélie.”

“She did?” Amélie exchanged an inquiring look with Lena, that made a gesture to tell her she kinda did, but not exactly.

“Yes. She told me you were an astounding French lady that could give a model a run for their money, if I remember well.” He cleaned his throat. “But the reason I came today was to check on you, Lena. How have you been doing?”

“Fine. It’s been some weeks since that headache happened Big Guy, it’s all right now!”

“Did you go to a doctor?” He frowned, his brow furrowing.

“Uuuh no? There was no need!” Lena giggled, embarrassed.

Winston sighed. “No need? What about later, when the omnic was shot?”

“How do you know about t-- oh, I’m gonna kill Ana.” She rolled her eyes, putting the food aside and shaking her hands off the sugar and sprinkles. She loved her neighbor, she really did, but sometimes...! “Really, I’m okay!”

“Have you experienced vertigo, nausea, tingles?

“Winston--”

“How are your eyes?”

“Enough! God dammit Big Guy, can’t you believe me?” Only when she saw the surprised way they stared she noticed that she was standing, tense and angry. Lena let her shoulders fall and waved, trying to find words to soften the mood, but that was difficult when she was in that state. “I… Damn, I can go to the doc if it’ll make you rest easier, how about that?”

Winston got up and went to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I know you hate it, but it’s for the best, I assure you.”

Lena said nothing else, just picked up her unfinished donut and focused on eating. Wiston then gave her a big hug that lifted her off the ground, making her squeak in surprise.

Amélie felt like she was intruding on a terribly personal matter, watching quietly from the side. There was a part of her that wanted to know what was going on and why Lena was upset, but she knew it was a terrible idea to ask. In fact, even her presence there at the moment looked wrong in her eyes and fortunately, she had just remembered something to remedy that.

“Oh look, I have to take my pills.” She sighed, clicking her tongue and getting up with a fake disinterest. “I’ll be right back.”

Lena’s head reappeared from behind Winston’s massive arms, smiling, and the gorilla finally put her back down. “Good thing you brought them, luv!”

She merely waved in acknowledgement before going out. Then Winston turned to face Lena with a dead serious look.

“How are you _really_ doing?”  


\--

 

Amélie took her medicine with the water Lena left for her the night before, claiming that she wouldn’t have to get up in the middle of the night if she got thirsty. So mindful, she was. Amélie felt like hugging her everytime she was this sweet, and that was a considerable amount of time. Lena was one of those people that make your day nicer only by passing by, everything felt like sunshine and rainbows (very gay rainbows, Amélie thought, amused) around her, so it was really unsettling to hear Winston asking about her health like there was something going on.

A message from Angela came while she was pondering about this stuff, and her reaction was to ask the doctor right away about the symptoms she heard from Winston. Angela thought it was strange to hear a question like that from her cousin, especially when she had just asked if she was okay and would like her to call a cab to take her home, but she answered anyway that the symptoms could lead to a few different causes and she’d need some exams made to be sure, but she could guess it was labyrinthitis, as it was a pretty common affliction.

Amélie tried to tell herself it was likely, yes, but her heart didn’t believe it so easily. Not when the mood got so heavy by a simple mention. Then again, she knew mindless speculation would only bring her anxiety, so she’d better brush this subject out of her mind and come back to earthly matters, like finishing breakfast and going home.

Easier said than done, though.

When she thought she had given them enough time and decided to go back to the kitchen, Amélie immediately discovered they were still talking about it quite heatedly, but not to the point of arguing.

“I’m absolutely not letting you pay, Winston. It’s a lot!” Lena paced around, unable to contain all the annoyance pretty visible on her face.

Winston shrugged, not taking it for a second. “I make a lot too, so it wouldn’t make a serious difference.”

Lena scoffed, and in her walking, she finally noticed Amélie at the door. “Hey there, pretty lady!”

“Hello, _chérie._ ” She smiled, walked in and went right to the point. “What’s the matter?”

“She won’t let me pay for her appointments.” Winston said, bluntly. “Even though she would struggle to pay them on her own.”

“That’s not…!”

“Would you rather have me tell miss Amélie you’d also use it as an excuse not to go at all?”

Lena froze and looked at Winston in a mix anger and disapprovement and he, in turn, just creased his brow defying her to say otherwise. Defeated, she grumbled and looked away, crossing her arms.

“I am a fucking adult, you know?!”

Amélie looked from one to the other and frowned slightly. Lena and Winston acted like a brother and a sister arguing because one of them messed up, both trying to be supportive but also slapping each other with harsh truths. The thing with siblings, though, was that they were not always trusted with their judgements as they should; she knew, she saw it plenty with her father and Angela’s.

With that, it was time for her to step in. Even if she didn’t know exactly what was happening, she could throw in her two cents.

“So, if I understood it properly, and correct me if I’m wrong,” She turned to Lena, staring right into her eyes. She knew that certainly would lock the unquiet woman in place. “You had some sort of serious headache weeks ago, and you told Winston about it. You should have looked for a professional opinion on it, but you followed with your life instead, not really bothered by it, until Winston arrived today. He offers to take care of appointments with doctors for you but you refuse, stating it’s a lot of money, and he replies you just want to put the subject aside and run away from whatever it is, right?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

Lena was not acquiescing with it, strictly speaking; it went out much more like a growl, and allied with her defiant posture, she was pretty much ready for a fight. Amélie hadn’t seen her like that before and somehow, it saddened her.

“So all the talk of getting help and getting better… Was a lie?” Amélie whispered, letting heartbreak bleed slightly into her words, but not her eyes. Those golden eyes were as sharp as ever.

That was clearly not what Lena was expecting to hear, because her shock was almost palpable, all of the anger dissipating into a cloud of angst. “No! Of course not!”

“So it applies only to me, then? You’re not allowed to get help yourself?” She asked, stepping forward.

“That’s _not_ the same thing!” Lena waved and staggered back, somehow her usual self again.

“So what is it? I was refusing to see doctors too, or did you forget about that?” Amélie was raising her voice unconsciously in the heat of the moment, and Winston stood up in alarm.

“I didn’t... That’s not--!”

“Miss Amélie…” He tried, ever polite, but that didn’t stop her advance.

“What is the difference here, Lena? Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“ _I don’t want to hear them say how fucked up my head is, okay?!_ ” She let out a strangled scream that made both Amélie and Winston stop in their tracks, surprised by the pain in it. “They’re just say over and over ‘Oh poor Lena, such a nasty trauma! You’re never gonna fly a bloody kite again but hey,” she sobbed and laughed, and in the despair of it all she tried to brush the tears away with the back of her hand, but failed. “It’s a miracle you’re there standing. You should be _proud.”_

Winston was at Lena’s side very quickly, trying to offer a shoulder for her to cry on. She refused it, though, and without looking at either of them, went out to her bedroom.

They watched it silently, and only when they heard the sound of the door closing was it that Amélie said something. “Stupid, _stupid._ I hurt her.”

Winston sighed, looking at the door. “You didn’t know.”

She wasn’t really listening, though. Amélie went back to that little internal place where everything she did was terrible and her whole existence was an insult to the unbroken and untainted things, things like Lena.  


\--  


Very little was said or done by the time Lena got out of her bedroom. She found Winston sitting on the living room, reading one of the philosophy books he liked so much, and cleared her throat to make herself noticed.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered without looking at him, clearly embarrassed but also numb, as those exchanges often leave a person.

Winston smiled gently. “It’s no problem.”

“Where’s Amé?”

“She went home. I was unable to make her stay, she was troubled by the fact she might have caused you pain.” He bit his lower lip for a moment, and Lena knew that apologetic look very well - he was blaming himself. Funny how everyone there seemed to be doing it.

“Right. I gotta go take a walk, Big Guy. It’s doing me no good staying here.” She stretched lazily. “I… need to be alone.”

“I understand. I’ll go back home…”

“As if I’d let you after the trouble you went through getting here, very funny.” Her voice wasn't amused though, just tired. “Please stay; you got the keys and I’m sure Ana will love to fill you in her latest theories about my love life. I’ll come back and we’ll talk, promise.”

Winston approached, putting both hands on her shoulders and checking her state with a clinical eye. “Take your cellphone, okay?”

“I always carry it nowadays. “ She shrugged, giving him a weak smile that could have meant anything, really. “See you, Winston.”

“See you, Tracer.”

Lena took a sharp breath and stopped for a moment, but that was all she did before heading to the door.

 

\--  


**_Lena_ **

_I’m sorry._

_It was not your fault and I shouldn’t have yelled._

_It’s complicated. I don’t feel like I can explain it right now…_

_10:16am_

 

_I’m very good at faking normalcy, I guess._

_10:21am_

 

_I want to tell you, though. I guess I was going to once you started to teach me how to dance, I mean, it would be unavoidable_

_10:22am_

 

_I am rambling, I should just_

_Dunno_

_Send you this already_

_[Attached link]_

_10:24am_

 

Amélie was laying on her bedroom for some time, looking at the ceiling and feeling absolutely drained when she started receiving the messages. _She must be saying she hates me and never wants to see me again_ , she thought, acid, even if a tiny part of her brain told her she knew Lena better than that.   
  
When she finally grabbed her phone after a dose more of overthinking, she discovered it was in fact an apology and an internet link. That was pretty unusual. Did Lena do something to try to make up to her? Could be, she was that kind of person.

Amélie clicked it and was directed to an article from two years before from a well respected news site.  


**_Tension in King’s Row peaks and makes more victims_ **

_Human-omnic relations have been deteriorating throughout London at an alarming pace. After the attack against an omnic shelter last week in New Cross, resulting in two deaths and seven injured, King’s Row is now the stage of the newest hate crime._

_The neighborhood, famous for its Omnic Underground, has attracted a lot of attention from hate groups like the Human Supremacists. Joel Lane, 32, omnic, found members of said group while going back home from work last Friday (the 3rd), and was immediately assaulted. Lena Oxton, 22, human, who was passing by, saw the commotion and tried to help Mr. Lane, which resulted in both of them beaten unconscious and left for dead in an alley._

_That raises again the question of when will the government finally act on the spreading aggression wave that assails the city. “They don’t care for omnics” M., 82, omnic, tells our correspondent. “It’s always been like this. The laws regarding us give ways for aggressors to escape punishment or not be convicted at all, so the police can arrest them but they’ll be out next day, even more vicious.”_

_Both Mr. Lane and Miss Oxton are currently in ICU, and people in an out of Kings Row are organizing a round of protests to demand the authorities take action regard the assaults._  


Amélie didn’t notice, but she was holding her breath as she read the article. Her eyes didn’t leave the screen, searching again for some sentences to be sure she read them properly, and when she finally let go of the air, it was with a painful sigh.  Lena had been beaten for trying to help an omnic two years before, and acquired a head trauma as a result. That was a lot. Of course she was angry when Winston asked about it before.

_I’m very good at faking normalcy, I guess._

Amélie could understand it very well. The pitiful looks, the commentary and the different treatment, it was no wonder Lena wanted to be spared of it all… But how much she hid from them? What was the extension of the damage? She mentioned doctors would tell her it was a miracle she was standing...

 

**_Lena_ **

_I’m sorry, ma chérie._

_I have exceeded myself too. I am a fool, and I will wait for you to tell me the rest whenever you are ready for it._

_11:03am_

_My aim is to see you happy._

_11:05am._

 

Amélie put the phone aside on the mattress and turned to a side. It seemed like she wouldn’t have the energy to do anything else for the day.  


\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a bad person. =3c
> 
> Thanks Yumiru, Jrade and Yossarian, you're incredible beta readers <3


	12. Chapter 12

Thunder echoed through the darkest of skies. Rain fell against the glass like bullets at that speed and the whole visual field was a mess, leaving her relying on instruments for guidance.

RAF Tracer darted through clouds packed with electricity in her Typhoon Jet, whose name could not be more appropriate for the occasion. Her mission was a simple one - shoot down enemy aircraft breaching Britain’s airspace. It was one of the specialties of her squadron and something she was particularly good at; no wonder they called her Tracer Ace in a chorus after missions, when they were enjoying some pints at the pub near the base.

“Bobcat I can’t see your position, report status.” Tracer asked on the comm, her voice calm and collected despite being in a storm at Mach 2.

“I’m at-- can’t-- -- -- interference--” A male voice came floating in a wave of static through the radio, often engulfed by it.

Tracer bit her lip. “Yeah, I can’t hear you very well, Bobcat. Arrowhead, do you copy? Report status.”

Silence.

“Arrowhead, repeat, report status.”

Nothing.  _ Shit. _

“Tower this is Tracer, communications have been compromised by an unknown source, my tracker device is dead and visibility is very low, what’s the course of action?”

_ [Tracer, this is Tower. Your squad keeps popping in and out of our radars. The specialists are saying there's something about the storm that's jamming the instruments. Use caution while we figure it out.] _

That was very weird. How could a storm jam high tech apparel from three different jets like this? Regardless, Tracer nodded to herself.

“Understood. I’ll just-- What the fuck is that?!”

There was a blue-glowing mass moving towards Tracer’s jet from the right side. She couldn’t quite discern what it was because of the rain but it was huge, threatening and moved quickly.

_ [What are you seeing, Tracer?] _

“Some sort of blue-glowing… Cloud?  _ Thing _ . Coming towards me. I’ll try to elude it.”

Tracer was young but impressively skilled. There was nothing but calm in her expression as she made a sharp turn with the Typhoon, heading right into a streak of storm clouds.

When she got out of it, though, an unforeseen upcurrent caught the jet and sent it spinning up. None of the instruments alerted Tracer of this possibility - they were probably jammed, too, but that was not what worried her at the moment 

Somehow the massive cloud that glowed blue had caught up and now stood right at her face as she spun uncontrollably. Something suddenly hit the side of the jet and sent it out of the stream, though, and she didn’t even have the time to recover from that before she was hit again and was sent with the jet rolling this time. If they (it? Whatever it was) kept it up she’d be screwed, so Tracer collected herself and tried countermeasures to reestablish her axis. It didn’t work, but slowed the spinning long enough for her to actually see what was going on outside.

There was something in the blue glow. Something that slithered and watched her, unwavering, with eyes that burned into her soul, not one pair but all, everywhere. Around it, the black clouds were filled with tempestuous, ever-changing shapes that reminded her vaguely of horses that flew (running?) towards her. She could see one right before she felt the impact and was thrown to a side once again.

_ [Tracer, report, what’s going on?!] _

The voice in the comm was urgent and brought her back to reality. She blinked and inhaled, momentarily lost.

“There’s something here. Something huge and  _ old _ and it wants me.” The words slipped through her lips full of a calm fatality, and only then Tracer realized how truthful they were. “It was an honor, ladies and gentlemen.”

She knew what she had to do and it took her less of a second to make her decision. She smiled. It was this ability that made her such an amazing fighter pilot, after all.

With a scream both foolish and brave, Tracer flew towards the slithering thing glowing in the clouds. She knew she was not getting out of it, but although it did scare her, it was weirdly  welcoming; she knew that was the way she was meant to go, flying her kite into the embrace of the unknown.

As blue light engulfed the jet and blinded her vision, Tracer felt something around her being torn open, filling her with so much energy that she could not contain it in her feeble human body. Energy that twisted, crushed and expanded her being. Energy that knew and welcomed her like she was home.

 

Lena woke up gasping for air, tangled in a blanket that wasn’t hers.

 

“Easy there,  _ colibri, _ you’re safe.”

That smart-ass tone and voice could only belong to one person. Lena stopped and relaxed, slowly remembering where she was and the events that led to her being there. She finally turned to face the woman sitting next to her.

“Hey there, Sombra.” Lena smiled weakly, a bit embarrassed.

“ _ Buenas noches, amiga. _ ” Sombra winked, making a motion with her hand that was all hers. “Nightmare, I take it?”

Sombra was sitting in one of those expensive gamer chairs, monitoring something on the five different screens of the custom computer system she put together. There were three others in the room, all different from each other, all custom built, and their lights reflected in Sombra’s purple eyes. Those were always a point of interest for Lena: she wondered how the woman ended up with such unnatural-colored eyes, but Sombra never told her, reveling in her ignorance instead. At least the purple part of her hair was straight forward dyed, and that was something Lena knew for sure.

“Well, it did have a lot of mares...” Lena giggled at her own joke, while Sombra just rolled her eyes.

“You slept a good three hours.” Sombra informed. “The night is high and I’m ready to party, wanna come or would you rather rest a little longer?”

“I could say sleep but I  _ know _ you’re going to take me anyway, right?” She glanced at Sombra knowingly. “Can’t resist this piece of London pride.”

This time Sombra scoffed, tapping a finger against her temple. “Good thing you’re better in bed than you are with puns,  _ amiga, _ or you’d be fucked. Or, rather, not fucked.”

They both chuckled. Lena made a show of sitting down and stretching. “Thank you for letting me in, Sombra.

“Yeah, well,” Sombra said without even thinking. “It’s not like I’d just leave an adorable thing like you on the sidewalk, you know.”

“And we didn’t even have to fuck!”

“That’s an option I’m very open to, let me remind you.” Sombra grinned, turning her attention back to the screens. “So what will it be?”

“Bath then we roll, sounds good?”

“It does. Go on, you know where the bathroom is.” Sombra dismissed her with a wave of her hand.  
  


\--  
  


The feeling of the wind against her skin at a speed higher than the road limit felt wonderful, and Lena, laughing like mad and standing with her arms open at the back of the thrashed open Jeep, thought to herself that she really missed this life. 

A little bit before, Sombra took her to her usual meeting place with the other guys of her little gang (they changed it because of… issues, she explained) and they made a puddle out of her under a hug pile. They remembered.  _ “¡Una vez una muerta, siempre una muerta!” _ They chanted. Lena never really joined the gang, but it was touching that they considered her one of them anyway.

They painted skulls over their faces with fluorescent paint, and everyone wanted to have a say as Sombra put one in Lena’s face as well. It was settled on a white, orange and blue one, with lightning and speed motives. Sombra made sure the night’s driver was completely sober ( _ “I’m wild but not stupid” _ , she used to say) and their made their way to the completely graffitied open jeep parked near the door of the warehouse.

Then, they rode off into the city shouting profanities and drinking from bottles they’d throw out of the vehicles once emptied. Lena didn’t care for their drinking, the blue pills under Sombra’s tongue, or even the mindless howls and curses. It was the speed that got her, the motion, the adrenaline rush that came with it. Her mind entered a state of sharp calm, tracing the patterns of the rapidly approaching cars from the other side of the line, people walking on the street, neon signs, all just like enemy aircraft under her gaze.

She remembered the endless hours of training on the base, spinning in the air with her kite like a gymnast, her squadron tracking and engaging enemies, how easy it was for her to trace their patterns and shoot them down. Tracer, they used to say, was born to take the skies.

Lena’s vision split in three mismatching images and she gasped, closing her eyes shut and recoiling. She lost balance, and would’ve fallen back onto the spare tire and possibly out of the vehicle if two pairs of hands didn’t grab her in time and pulled her down to the seat. She didn’t really register this, though, not with her head spinning and hurting like someone was tugging its insides with needles on fire.

“You okay there,  _ chica?”  _ Sombra asked.

Lena raised a hand in a plead for them to wait, which they did. A lot of things could be said about  _ Los Muertos _ , but they were not unkind to their own.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She mumbled, massaging her temples with circular motions, exhaling deeply and letting go of the tension. “Damn.”

“We’re almost there.” Sombra announced, squeezing her shoulder. It was supposed to be reassuring, Lena knew, but she had no idea where they were going so it didn’t work. Sombra then got up to look back and apparently saw something much more interesting, as her wicked, smart-ass smirk was back on her face. “Hey, look who’s come to greet us!”

Police sirens started screaming from behind them, and  _ los Muertos _ cheered and hurled insults, excited for what they’d turn into a car chase soon enough.

Lena giggled, pushing some hair out of her face. Those people were utterly insane, and she loved it.  
  


\--  
  


The cuckoo clock on the wall informed them it was 1:46am. The most agitated that particular living room would usually get at this time was if Fareeha got home extra late from work, then she’d probably pass by dragging herself to her bedroom or just sleep on the couch. That night, though, Ana sat on the couch with a cup of tea, unable to sleep. Her sixth sense was tingling, and that almost always meant something bad was or would be happening soon. Not to her, of course - she was perfectly capable of protecting herself from menaces both physical and spiritual - but to her protégés. And this time she could even bet on which one.

Ana glanced at the relic on the side table, the rotary dial telephone she brought with her from Egypt and looked like a victorian piece, and sighed. Such trouble. She hoped Winston wasn’t sleeping yet.

He answered on the second beep, so he definitely wasn’t.

“ _ Ana?”   _ His deep voice sounded curious, as well as tired.

“Hello. I’m sorry to call at such an hour, but I need to know - has Lena returned yet?”

_ “No, ma’am. Last time we talked she told me she’d spend the night in a friend’s house. Why?”  _ Winston was worried, probably unable to shake the guilt that had been plaguing him the whole day.

“I’m having a bad feeling, that’s it. Was she strange?” Ana stared at her cup, pondering in her head.

_ “I… Actually, we were texting so I don’t know. She just seemed to be upset, but that’s expected after this morning, right?” _

“Right.” She expected something of that sort. “Thank you, Winston.”

_ “Please tell me if you hear from her!”  _ He asked.

“Of course… Good night.” Ana hung up, put the tea aside and headed to Fareeha’s room. She needed to retrieve her trusty rifle from her daughter’s safe, and if she wanted to tag along and help, that would be nice too.  
  


\--

 

“Have you seen that?! We passed by that wall like  _ this close! _ ” Lena put her index finger and thumb almost touching, laughing like a delighted kid, walking like a drunk woman. “Man, you’re a wicked driver!”

“Thanks,  _ colibri! _ ” The man, with a poorly shaved beard and an impressive green and pink mohawk, laughed as well, a sort of canine laugh. “I love those chases! They tried to follow my turn and went right into concrete, the wankers!”

Everyone laughed at that, and they made a high-speed turn out of the avenue and into a more residential area, a decaying neighborhood. Everyone with sense and condition had moved away from those old two-storey buildings smudged with grime and gang tags long ago, and the remaining residents were often a poor, ragged sort that knew to be home until a determined time, lest they found the shady types that lurked on those streets. Types just like  _ los Muertos. _

“So, what about telling me where we are going now?” Lena tried.

“Nope!” Sombra chuckled. “Relax, you’ll like it. It’s just the sort of thing you love.”

“I love a lot of things, you know.”

“That I do.” Sombra raised an eyebrow and smiled the way she usually did when she had stuff to blackmail you (which was always) but found it particularly amusing.

Lena tilted her head. “What?”

“A ginger and a French woman, huh? Both gorgeous… You’re a hell of a player,  _ chica, _ I’m proud!”

Lena scoffed. Even  _ her _ ? Oh, that was achieving ridiculous proportions. 

“You’ll be prouder when you hear the things we do in bed, luv.” Lena opened a tiny smug smile as she saw the way Sombra’s expression shifted to one of delight and she laughed loudly.

They arrived in an old construction site bearing the structural pillars for a huge building complex that never took off. Depredated hoardings encircled the site poorly, and the front gate laid broken some meters into the place. There wasn’t enough light to illuminate all the nooks and crannies, and it looked like a place where a horror movie could certainly take place, provided someone stupid enough entered it.

“You brought me to the cursed Golden Wreath Mall?” Lena frowned. “I like creepypasta, luv, but that’s a bit too much…”

“Nah, it’s completely safe - we’re not trying to build it, are we?” She chuckled. “C’mon Bard!”

The driver obliged and they entered the site peeling off, the girl besides Lena brandishing a baseball bat and shouting that she’d beat the shit out of any curse that dared to mess with them.

The Golden Wreath Mall had once been the most ambitious project in that part of London. It was idealized by two very rich brothers to be the biggest mall the city had ever seen and left the paper in astounding velocity, but that’s not really surprised when you consider the amount of money involved. In the initial stages of construction something went very wrong, though: one of the brothers discovered that the other was having an affair with his wife.

They fought and almost killed each other that night, and the cheated brother withdrew any and every investment he had in partnership with his traitor brother. Since then, the Golden Wreath Mall suffered countless - and sometimes inexplicable - incidents that delayed the building work: stolen materials, broken machinery, strikes and the collapse of a set of foundations by wrong calculations are just a few to mention. People whispered that the place was cursed and workers started leaving their jobs, fearing for their lives.

After a catastrophic episode where a whole floor collapsed, killing twelve people, the construction company gave up, it had been three years and the project was no longer viable for the amount of money they spent. Upon the abandonment, the brown media had a blast calling it all the work of the curse, and that the wronged brother sold part of his soul to a witch in order to achieve that outcome. The police never confirmed if the site was under the influence of any type of magic, but it was certainly interesting that no one expressed desire to buy the place in the upcoming years, and the mall was lost to the action of time and gangs.

The site was huge, true, but it didn’t take long for them to notice lights coming from somewhere among the debris and wrecked cars.The source were floodlights in a lower part of the place, an open area with a lot of people and at least a dozen modified cars.

Sombra snickered. “Let’s see if that won’t cheer you up.”

Lena looked at her and grinned. Some sort of gathering in the fashion of  _ Fast and Furious _ with sick machines that would probably do crazy drifts and race against each other? The probability of that cheering her up for good was quite astronomical.  
  


\--  
  


As with everything she did, Sombra didn’t take Lena there exclusively out of the goodness in her heart. While Lena and the other guys cheered for the cars that made a drift competition of circling the nearby piles of debris, she was making business with some omnics dressed in similar black clothes some distance from there. Lena didn’t pay that much mind, to be honest; Sombra always had to profit somehow, it was her way of doing things. 

There was something way better for Lena to pay attention to: an omnic driver completely owning the others when it came to drifting around. They drove a green-gold pearlescent Mazda MX-5 that matched their own painting and was a charming lady with a pink scarf, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd as soon as they finished every set. Lena adored her at first look, to be honest, and would totally go talk to them when they called it a night. 

That was why she was so upset when the people next to her in the crowd started talking shit about them.

“Look at the scraphead, it thinks it’s so fancy atop its car” One of them put a hand on his chest and waved, mocking the omnic’s gestures.

“Yeah, when it’s clearly cheating - everybody know bots can do shit better!” Another one, taller and more ragged looking, shouted.

“Who let it compete anyway?!” The first replied.

Lena rolled her eyes. Frankly, this type of prejudice was so tiring and widespread she could only dream what it was like for an actual omnic to live in that city. Things were getting better little by little, but were still far from good…

“Take the scrap metal out of the race!” A third guy, blond and visibly drunk, threw his beer can at the road.

“Oh bloody hell. Bard?” Lena turned to the  _ muerto _ . “I’ll paste someone if I stay here, can we move?”

“Not in the mood for a fight,  _ colibri _ ?” He laughed, patting her in the shoulder. “Fine, let me grab little Carrero here and we go to the other side.”

Little Carrero was the girl that pulled Lena back on the seat along with Sombra. She was quite pyromaniac, and could usually be seen burning something. At the moment, it wasn’t any different: Bard pointed over his shoulder towards the back, and if Lena stood on the tip of her feet she could see Carrero and some unknown people burning what looked vaguely like a suitcase on a metal drum. Well, to each his own, right...? Bard stretched and sighed, heading towards his gangmate. 

“Bah, it’s good the Steamroller is taking care of the bots! It’s about time someone crushed them!”

Against better judgement, Lena whipped back with an incredulous expression and stared at the laughing rude men she wanted to avoid in the first place. “ _ What?! _ ”

They stopped laughing and frowned. Why was a feeble tomboy with a skull painted on her face addressing them in such an unrespectful manner? Who did she think she was? “That’s how you talk to a man, bitch?”

Lena blinked twice. Did she really hear such a thing?  _ Really _ ? “A kick to the bollocks, that’s how I talk to them - but I’ll keep looking, I see none here.” 

“What’cha just say?!” The taller of them took a step forward, crushing slightly his can of beer. “Hey James, did ya hear this bitch?!”

_ Good, pick a fight with not only one but three guys stronger than you! _ Lena thought to herself.

_ Oh shut up, they deserve it! _ Her other side replied.

Well, they could deserve it, but they still had the upper hand there, she needed to be smart about it, even if it would be the only smart decision of the night.

“What you heard, wanker! I see no man here. None of you can beat me in a race!” 

Lena regret it as soon as it left her lips. A race? With her? She couldn’t drive.  _ Anything. _ Doctors forbid her from it, they said the eye motion involved, the sensory input and a lot of other complicated stuff would get to her brain and overload her just like it happened on the road to the construction site.

They were also idiots that didn’t believe her when she said she could do it if she focused. She had been such an outstanding driver, before…

Flashes of Winston taking her to buy her first motorcycle came to mind. It was such a cheap model, old and unreliable, but she was so happy at the moment. “You’re a motorcycle girl, Lena.” Winston said, chuckling. “I think it’s time you stop sneaking out to ride with the one James has in his shed.”

Lena raised her head and stood proud. She’d do it.

The first guy, the one named James, took two steps forward and towered over her with a sick grin. “You’re on, lamb.” Then he proceeded to bark, which made Lena roll her eyes to the implication. Ugh, disgusting men.  
  


\--

 

“A pleasure doing business with you, Sombra.” The omnic shook her hand, his electronic voice bearing a hint of satisfaction.

“All mine.” She winked, walking away in a sleek motion as she put the piece of hardware in the inner pocket of her jacket. That would be a fun night of decrypting data for her.

Lost in her own pleasant thoughts, Sombra only noticed the commotion ahead when Little Carrero came running in her direction with a grin that could only mean two things: She set something particularly good on fire or trouble was brewing. Sometimes, it was both.

“Boss! Boss! You won’t believe this - Lena just called some guys names and challenged them to a race!” Her eyes sparkled with mayhem. “Boy, that be cool!”

Sombra raised her eyebrow so much the crease in her forehead was almost a rift.  _ “¡Hija de la puta, chica estúpida!” _

 

\--  
  


“You sure about that?” Bard said as he jumped out of the Jeep.

Lena held the steering wheel tight and nodded, determination stamped in her face.

The tuned cars were parked out of the track, to give the new competitors space. The drivers watched, curious as to what motivated such a challenge, amused by it. The crowd cheered, both cars were aligned on the track delimited by carefully arranged debris and scrap metal, and a woman with a piece of cloth positioned herself in front of the cars, between them.

“You’re  _ mine _ when you lose, dumb bitch!” One of the awful guys said from their car, but Lena didn’t even look at them to see who it was. She merely raised a middle finger.

She was Tracer, best damn RAF pilot from her time, eyes always on the prize. She’d do it.

“First one to finish a lap wins!” The woman in front of the cars shouted. “On my command!”

Tracer reviewed every peculiarity Bard informed her of. There weren’t many, but she’d have to remember them if she wanted to win that thing.

“Three.”

She just had to keep her eyes under control.

“Two.”

And the eventual motion sickness.

“One.”

And the dizzi- oh,  _ fuck that. _

“ _ Go!” _

The cars left a dust cloud when they took off, engines roaring loud as the crowd cheered them on. 

Sombra finally reached Bard on the starting point of the race, and gave him a smack on the shoulder.

“Why did you let her do that?!” She panted from the running, but that didn't affect how mad her tone was or the sharp stare, and that made him very confused.

“But she’s the one that picked up the fight, Sombra! I even asked if she was sure!”

Sombra massaged her temples before answering. The way her expression shifted, it was likely she was trying to keep the emotions under control.

“She’s totally gonna kill herself.”

“What?!”

“Oh idiot girl…” Sombra crisped her lips, watching the cars getting smaller in the distance. Lena would need a miracle to get out of that situation whole.

 

\--  
  


There was a world of differences between driving a plane and a car. Tracer knew not only both but also motorcycles, and some years ago she would have been laughing as she made the turns on the track effortlessly, possibly joking about deserving a medal for her distinguished technique. Now, though, she felt like she was racing not only against a trio of idiots but also against herself, and it was quite frightening.

Tracer was stiff, paying close attention to possible reactions on her body as well as minding the track. Clenched teeth, she tried to focus her attention forward as much as she could, ignoring the motion around, hoping this way it wouldn’t trigger anything. It was especially difficult when the suspension of the Jeep was almost nonexistent and the turns started coming.

The jeep was technically worse than the idiots’ car (she couldn’t tell what model it was, not the way they modified it), but it was sturdier, and their driver was not nearly as apt as Tracer. She left them behind on the first turns, and the distance only increased more and more as the race progressed. That said, instead of enjoying the ride, she could feel her stomach turning and her fingers stinging.  _ Well, at least I know I’m winning,  _ she thought to herself,  _ just a bit longer. _

After making a particularly tricky turn at high speed - whoever delimited the track was  _ nasty _ , they made it turn around all over like a ball python - Tracer felt the tugging at the side of her head and held her breath. Her fingers were going numb.  _ Oh no, not now…! _

She was so close. _She_ _would do it._

That was when something really weird happened. Things started appearing in the corner of her eye, shadows moving around quite systematically, human-like. She wanted to turn quickly and take a look, but she knew what it would trigger. Dammit, but what were those…?

“Look at our little Lena. So committed.” A female voice purred on her ear. “So afraid yet so determined. You’re really pushing yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Tracer almost jumped and turned to face the passenger seat, but a nasty sting to her temple helped her keep focus where it mattered. The finish line was even closer now, she wouldn’t be betrayed by her probably hallucinating mind.In the event that there really was someone there, she’d deal with them later.

She had no time, though. 

A sharp headache hit her, splitting her vision. She jerked her head away by instinct, closing her eyes, and with the motion she let go of the steering wheel.

“Oh but you’re going to hit a lot of people like that, dear!” The person besides Tracer laughed. It could have been mockery but it drew her attention, and although the pain was great and the disorientation more so, Tracer opened her eyes just enough to have a general idea of where she was heading and hit the brakes.

The tires screamed with the strength of the breaks against the ongoing acceleration, and Tracer crossed the finish line with the jeep heading left more than it should, finally finding a stop when the car hit a pile of rubble, smashing the front slightly.

The crowd stopped cheering. There was clearly something wrong.

Her friends opened the way to the jeep and found Lena curled up in a ball on the driver’s seat, clasping her head like it was going to fall apart. Her forehead had a cut on it, but it didn’t look serious - what was worrisome was that Lena probably hit her head on the impact.

“ _ Chica _ ! Hang on, we’re here!” Sombra opened the door and gave way for Bard to pick the woman up.

When he tried to lift her, though, she turned away and vomited on the ground, going completely limp as she lost conscience. Sombra cursed loud in Spanish and told the others to move her to the back seat, they needed to find a hospital. The jeep was sure to be still working with that weak a crash.

The other car finally crossed the finish line. James and his lackeys practically jumped out of the vehicle, stomping and grunting until they reached the group. “You cheated!” He roared.

Sombra quickly stood between him and the rest of the gang.

“Okay, just hold on a second--”

“This  _ bitch _ did somet-- woah there, is she okay?!” His eyes got wide as plates as he saw the people carried Lena towards the back seat.

Sombra frowned and grunted. “What does it look like?!”

“Boss, we’re ready to leave!” Bard shouted from the jeep.

James was about to reply something when his expression changed to one of surprise, and he took his hand to his left shoulder. Then, a second later he fell forward, and Sombra barely avoided him. His friends were as shocked as him, and scattered before they too could be hit by whatever it was.

¡¿ _ Mas que carajo…?! _

Two women approached. The older one, with an eyepatch - an  _ eyepatch! -  _ and a sniper rifle - a  _ sniper rifle! -  _ had the look of a person about to kill someone in cold blood, which she could have done to the man fallen before them, except it was some sort of dart that was sticking from his shoulder.

“You will leave my girl alone” Ana Amari said, staring at  _ los muertos _ . “Right now!”

“Fuck, we’re late” Fareeha headed to the jeep to see Lena’s state, but was blocked by Sombra. “Get back, we need to take her to a hospital!”

Upon hearing that, The hacker immediately obliged. “That’s what we’re trying to do, you know!”

Both Ana and Fareeha stopped. “You are?” They asked.

“Yeah, you idiots! Can we not waste time and fucking go now? Damn!”

“Boss, she looks like she’s waking up but not quite, she’s babbling!” Little Carrero warned from the back seat.

The three woman looked at each other. “Mom, show them the way, I’ll take the car.” Fareeha ran back to where they came from. Ana nodded and jumped into the jeep with surprising agility, and Sombra noticed that there wouldn’t be a place for her in the car, so she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Well, keeping Lena safe was kind of a priority at the moment, so she could let that pass. “Go on, what are you waiting for?!” She shooed them. “I’ll be fine.”

The jeep was off in a moment, heading towards the exit like lightning.  
  


\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I am a worse person.
> 
> _Colibri_ \- Hummingbird. Sombra gave her this nickname because she's small, adorable and always moving, mostly.
> 
> _¡Una vez una muerta, siempre una muerta!_ \- One time a muerta, always a muerta!
> 
> _¡Hija de la puta, chica estúpida!_ \- Son (daughter?) of a bitch, stupid girl!
> 
> _¡¿Mas que carajo…?!_ \- What the fuck...?
> 
>  --
> 
> Thanks Jrade, Yossarian and Yumiru! <3
> 
> \--
> 
> Oh, I totally forgot to put something very important here... Yumiru made me do a guide for Emily's eyes on this fic! You can check it out here: [[x]](http://darksideone.tumblr.com/post/174446223570/for-those-who-doesnt-know-terpsichore-is-my)


	13. Chapter 13

Amélie didn’t know for sure how it happened, but she found herself standing at the beautiful entrance to the Royal Opera House.

Most of her afternoon was spent in bed, feeling miserable about her argument with Lena. A part of her knew it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t have possibly known what would happen. They’d calm down, talk at a later date and settle things in the sweet way that was so characteristic of the girl. The other part, though, screamed that she had to know something was up, she was a cold, insensitive bitch that was a disgrace as a friend. This part was quite irrational, but it was so loud and persistent it made it difficult not to fall for its words, if only a little.

It was the first time Amélie felt this bad after she started taking antidepressants. It made her scared. What if they wouldn’t work anymore? Would she have to go back to being (more of) a mess until her doctor found a new one? What if there was none? She didn’t want to feel like this forever. It was too tiring to drag it around like a ball and chain, draining at her life and happiness. So, so heavy…

What would Gérard tell her if he was there? What would Emily say?

Probably, both of them would tell her to give it time and distract herself in whichever way she could. Gérard would tell her the most absurd jokes and tales from work, making her scoff and say, giggling, that it was a load of bulshit, while Emily, ever so mindful, would make her tea and popcorn and put on a sitcom for them to watch wrapped in blankets. She wanted that, deep inside - they were incredible in reassuring her - but she also had a feeling that she didn’t deserve any of it. Everyone said she was worth it, but they were wrong and only she knew the truth about herself: she was a greedy, selfish bitch that couldn’t really mind other people’s problems, and everything felt like the end of the world for her because she lived for the attention.

Lena’s face as she told her about having a fucked up head came back to Amélie’s mind constantly, making her distance herself further from the moment until tears dried and she felt nothing but hollow.

Could someone - anyone - take her out of this? Could anyone save her? Where was her muse?

The thought of Emily sitting by her side, running soft fingers through her hair, massaging the back of her neck and shoulders, holding her in her arms… It made Amélie long for it. Could she feel it, wherever she was? Would she come and do it?

A loud bang was heard as the energy of the room peaked, turning on all that was plugged in sockets and turning them off violently right after. Amélie sat in a heartbeat, looking around startled, but there was nothing different, not besides the lamp anyway - that one was burnt out for sure.

“Emily…? Is that you…?” Her heart raced, the tips of her fingers were cold with adrenaline, but Amélie kept her face straight and unbothered, a result of years of ballet practice and acting.

Only silence greet her, and it freaked Amélie out more. It couldn’t have just been a common energy peak, they didn’t turn on the electronics like that. It had to be something else, and if it wasn’t Emily…

The tv turned on and startled her. Channels changed quickly until it stopped at one that had a men laying down on his bed, wrapped in blankets and looking wasted. Someone knocked on the door and he groaned, pressing his forehead.

 _“Hey George, get out! You’ve been there for half a day already!”_ A male voice said offscreen.

George covered his head with the blanket. _“I’m unwell, I can’t get up.”_ He had a dragged, numb tone.

“ _Are you sick, you nutjob?!” The men outside replied._

George was about to answer when the TV turned off. The night light turned on, and off, and on again, then the radio came to life.

 

_I'm not suicidal_

_I just can't get out of bed_

_I drift into a deep fog_

_Lost where I forgot to hold it_

_I can feel you when I'm alone_

 

The station changed.

 

_Hold you in my arms,_

_I just wanted to hold you in my arms_

 

“What are you trying to tell me...?” Amélie bit her lip, absorbed. A sick guy laying on a bed, mentions of being unable to leave the bed, drifting into fog, a statement of wanting to hold her…

It all clicked in her mind and her eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re still drunk?! No… You have a hangover!”

The TV turned on again, this time on a game show.

“ _And your answer is… Correct! You win_ _£_ _3500!”_ The host said, pointing to a smiling contestant.

The amount of questions left for them to answer was displayed on the screen, leading to _£_ 1 million _._ The crowd cheered on the back and the TV turned off.

Amélie tried to contain the laughter, but a weird smile appeared on her face regardless. “It was expected, after your state last night.”

Emily didn’t answer, and she didn’t know if that was funnier than the alternative or not.

“Angela has medicine for that here, you know? Although I’m not even sure she gets drunk anymore with the amounts of alcohol she ingests.” She paused for emphasis. “Anyway, I’ll take care of you. Someday I had to return the favor, no?”

Again the energy peaked, there was a loud bang and everything turned on and off in a flash. Amélie assumed it did have to do with Emily, although she never saw her doing anything like that before.

The answer came in the form of a news page buzzing on Amélie’s phone. It had the very absurd headline _Woman tries to break into her friend’s apartment as a prank, falls from the first floor._

Okay, that did look like she was trying to get there but failing to Amélie.

“I hope you didn’t fall from a window, _chérie.”_ she chuckled.

Another page opened on the phone, and it showed the cover of _Voyage to the Center of the Earth._ Amélie didn’t find the connection at first, but she groaned when she did. Of course she could only guess, but even then it was a bad pun.

Another article came up on her phone: _Walking helps endorphin production and reduces chances of depression, scientists say._ Amélie skimmed through the text, stopping into some key parts, and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go for a walk? Now?”

 

_I walk a lonely road_

_The only one that I have ever known_

_Don't know where it goes_

_But it's only me, and I walk alone_

 

Amélie wasn’t really up for it, if she was honest, but she knew it could help. Walking around was something Lena would do, not her; she usually would be happy sitting on a bench with a nice view and reading a book. Then again, if Lena did it… Maybe doing it too could help her understand better how she worked and how to approach her in a more sensible manner.

“Half an hour won’t hurt, I suppose.” She sighed, getting up. She needed to get ready.

 

\--

 

Surprisingly, the scientists were right, after all, and walking helped clear Amélie’s mind. Engaging in a purely physical activity, focusing her attention on the mechanical motion and what she could see and feel with her body was something familiar, even if not the same as rehearsing. Stopping to windowshop or watch the street artists as the afternoon faded into night and the lights turned on put her mind at ease, somehow. It was like seeing life from an outsider’s eyes… Was this the way Emily saw things from her side?

That was when she suddenly found herself standing at the beautiful entrance to the Royal Opera House.

She stopped and looked up at the neoclassical portico and the glass structure adjacent to the building, then her eyes darted to the the ticket booths, the people entering the hall to see the performance and the poster for the latest production.

Amélie felt her stomach drop and the air leave her lungs. It was a ballet - _Romeo and Juliet_. Even if the original story made her roll her eyes at the stupidity of youth (which, she supposed, was what Shakespeare wanted in the first place) she really, really liked the ballet. It was dreamy. And… it was ballet. She couldn’t have asked for anything more, really, especially when it would be the Royal Ballet performing. They were almost the same level as her beloved Paris Opera Ballet, their strong points differing, though. She remembered sparsely seeing them on stage, and it would be lovely to see them now… Except the fact that watching ballet made her sad and anxious the very last time she did it, still in France. Too many difficult feelings arose, then. She didn’t want it to happen again, but...

“Was it you, Emily?” Amélie whispered quietly, eyes locked on the poster. “Did you bring me here?”

It was crazy, but Amélie almost could feel a wave of sadness radiating in her direction right after she asked, and she didn’t really know if she was imagining it. Her phone buzzed and she picked it up to find it open on a dictionary page for the word _consent:_

 

**con‧sent /kənˈsent/**

_noun[uncountable]_

1 permission to do something

2 agreement about something

 

COLLOCATIONS

**give (somebody) your consent**

The child’s parents have to give their consent to the operation.

**have somebody’s consent**

He claimed to have the consent of the car’s owner.

 **get somebody’s consent (also obtain somebody’s consent** _formal_ **)**

Your solicitor will need to obtain your signed consent.

**something requires somebody’s consent**

Your consent is required before we can apply for a medical report.

 

Amélie managed to smile at the peculiar sharpness of that response. It also made her lighter, somehow.

“So was it merely by chance, or… No.” She inhaled. “It was me, probably. Subconsciously. _Mon Dieu, je ne sais pas_.”

Again the bang, and all the lights on the place got lighter and then went off. Amélie took a step back by reflex, but then she snorted as she saw the people inside completely gobsmacked, looking everywhere for a possible cause for the sudden blackout.

“ _Chérie,_ you’re gonna hurt yourself like that.”

As a reply, the lights started turning on one after another in a wave motion, turning off afterwards, blinked, then alternated… Amélie shook her head, giggling, and waved.

“It’s enough, I got it! You’re going to burn them out...!”

The lights turned on and stayed that way this time. People went back to their errands laughing and saying someone was probably playing with them, which was not wrong, actually.

“You’re as bad as Lena.” She crossed her arms, smiling. “You just hide the dorkness behind this smart face of yours.”

 _Just like Gérard,_ she thought, distracted, and her smile turned a bit sadder. Look at her, thinking about her dead fiancé at the entrance to an Opera House. It was almost the setting of a movie, but in this one, there would be no one entering the place in a hurry and bumping into her, causing love at first sight. She wouldn’t fall in love with the first _ballerina._ A charming vicomte wouldn’t come to the catacombs to save her from the phantom.

Maybe because she had to save herself. Maybe because she already had a charming graffiti artist with a heart of gold and a witty ethereal dancer to give all the support she needed.

Maybe because she just needed to try.

Amélie took a deep breath and headed to the ticket booth, where a girl barely out of her teenager years greeted her with a shy smile.

“What can I help you with, ma’am?”

“I’d like the…” Her stomach turned and it was difficult to breath, but she would not give up this time. She stopped and took another deep breath, closing her hands in tight fists. “ _Pardon._ I’d like to know the schedule for _Romeo and Juliet.”_

“Oh, right away!” The girl turned her attention to her desk, searching for something, and produced a tri-folded brochure for Amélie. “Here we have the schedule for all the current attractions. Anything else?”

Amélie ran a finger through the cover image of Juliet in Romeo’s arms. “Not at the present time. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, come back again!”

She went out absentmindedly, leaning on the nearest wall outside and skimming through the schedule until she found what she was looking for. “Do you think Lena… You two… Would you come with me…?”

Her phone boomed with a full-volume rock song.

 

_Yeah I, will love you, baby_

_Always_

_and I'll be there_

_Forever and a day,_

_Always_

 

Amélie almost dropped the thing trying to set the volume down, but it muted on itself soon enough. The woman looked around, to no one in particular, and crossed her arms, red and embarrassed.

“Emily that was _very_ unnecessary. And quite gay, but that’s not really a problem.”

 

The speakers boomed again.

 

_What can I say except you're welcome_

_For the tides, the sun, the sky_

_Hey, it's okay, it's okay_

_You're welcome_

_I'm just an ordinary demi-guy_

 

The streak of French curses Amélie shouted was so impressive people passing around her on the street even turned to see what was going on, saw a stunning French lady cursing with the poker face of the century and got very confused.

When she was done, she rolled her eyes and watched the street. Lena probably knew every nook and cranny of the surrounding area and could take her to a nice pub, then she’d get all clumsy because she thought she should have taken her to a fancy restaurant instead… Amélie hoped she was alright. Was it enough time for her to calm down already? Was it too soon to call?

She sighed, leaning her head on the wall and closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them to stare at the moon behind thin clouds. How could she have been so stupid as to hurt Lena like that?

Again those thoughts. They made her want to punch something, preferably herself... She shook her head. Staying there looking at nothing wouldn’t help with the loathing or the anxiety. It was time to go back home.

Something made her stop in her tracks, though. The thoughts shifted in her head from guilt to anger, they shouted she was a bad person, that she broke everything, everyone, near her. That she was just giving up again.

Amélie closed her hands in a fist and looked back inside the Royal Opera House. A considerable amount of people were heading to the hall, the performance would probably start soon.

 _You know what,_ she thought, _she’d make her girls proud, for once._

 

\--

The tears streaming down Amélie’s face were silent as she watched the ballet unfurl on the stage below. She went all out and bought a ticket to one of the the best seats available, where she could see all that was going on and was yet so close that the expression on the dancers’ faces was recognizable, and it was completely worth it. The performance was magnificent, the outfits, the acting… All of it elevated her to a state of awe in a way that only ballet could.

Absolutely beautiful, it was, and also heartbreaking. Amélie couldn’t bar the difficult feelings from arising on that situation, it was all too familiar and wanted: she longed to be there on the stage with the crew, astounding the crowd with her movements. She wanted to feel light as a feather floating through the air, dancing at the wind’s will. That was what she was made for, her love and purpose, and yet it was taken away with Gérard that night. As he wouldn’t be coming back, she couldn’t have that life anymore.

Still, in the middle of her sorrow something stirred as she looked at Juliet in Romeo's arms, dancing around the stage. She thought of their words of love and promise to each other in the original work and they sounded strangely enticing in her mind, but also so sad... They were so infatuated with each other they ended up killing themselves. A desperate measure by fools in love, something she usually labeled corny but now tugged at her heart.

At first Amélie didn’t know why, but as the performance progressed and got increasingly angsty, realization dawned on her: those corny words, the unrealistic love and the desperate taking of life at the end, they could very well have been an exaggerated depiction of her and Gérard. How many times they spinned around in ballrooms, trading witty promises of love and affection? How lost and desperate she felt when she learned of his death, how she wanted to die to be at his side again?

They had a different dynamic, sure, but they were just this kind of couple... And now she was Juliet alone.

 

No.

Not alone.

 

Amélie thought of Emily and Lena, how much they helped her those months. Would Juliet have carried on if she found such an admirable couple like those two? Would she have healed and found another, healthier way? Would she have healed enough to find new love?

Well, would Amélie herself do it?

That was something she couldn’t know and it was a waste of time trying to predict, she reminded herself. Best to stay with her feet on the ground and enjoy the show.

\--

The cab home was almost a blur for Amélie. She walked in and immediately went to the bedroom, letting herself fall on the bed. There was so much in her head and heart she felt like exploding, but louder than that were an ache and a need she had to satisfy.

Amélie got back up and pushed the furniture to the walls as much as she could. She scrambled for some of her old cds, taking one she deemed appropriate and putting it in the sound system. As the first notes of the piano played, Amélie started moving.

Had it been her way she would have pushed herself to do the movements as best as she could, with excellence in sight. If she did that, though, her leg would surely be injured before the second movement, especially after an afternoon of walking. No, what she needed was to dance madly, unbound by her own chains. Only then she’d let go of everything inside her.

The song was soft and bittersweet, and Amélie took every step in sadness, every gesture in vulnerability, balancing herself between hope and despair - it was as if she was showing herself bare of the masks she wore to survive the world and herself, and it resulted in something so beautiful and true it had the strength of a beacon in the night. If she ever knew how many people were watching, she’d have been horrified by showing them this side, and would get absolutely confused by the wild burst of applause that followed the finale.

She could not see any of them, but she lifted her face and crossed eyes with the only one that mattered - Emily stood before her with a hand covering her mouth and eyes glistening with tears so openly Amélie couldn’t help but think she wasn’t aware she could see her, as Emily always made a point of appearing strong and upbeat.

“Emily…?” Amélie whispered.

Her eyes turned wide as plates for a moment and she looked down at herself, taking account of her quite physical state. She then bolted to Amélie and enveloped her in a hug that almost made them both fall on the bed.

“I’m so sorry, I wanted so much to just be there with you today but I just _couldn’t_ , it was so infuriating!” The words spilled like water in a broken dam, fast and urgent.

“It’s okay, chérie…” She replied, running fingers through her hair.

“No it’s not! You’ve needed someone the whole day, I messed up everytime I tried to materialize and fell back feeling worse, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t know that could happen…!”

A deep affection washed over Amélie as she felt that woman shaking slightly in the embrace, feeling guilty about something that wasn’t in her control, so worried about her. “You’re here now, that’s all I could ask for.”

She backed away enough to look at Emily with a tiny smile, and the muse laughed embarrassed and wiped the tears with the back of her hand.

“You… Amé, you were so beautiful right now, I missed _so much_ seeing you dance I just--” Emily pointed to her face and laughed again, shook her head and stared. “Damn me.”

Amélie didn’t know exactly what she had seen of beauty there, she wasn’t focusing on that while she danced. What she knew was what the joy rising on her chest meant, though, and it surprised her - she didn’t know what to do with it, in fact, she feared it… So she just disengaged in order to take Emily’s face in her hands and stare her dead in the eyes.

“ _Tu es parfaite, ma chérie_.” She smiled.

Emily practically melted over that. “Amé… You are so killing me right now, you know?”

“You sound just like Lena.” Amélie observed, amused, and chuckled.

“I don’t know why you-- wait.” Emily frowned and went silent for a moment, Amélie could almost see the gears turning in her head. “Why am I here, instead of there with her?”

Now that was a great question they didn’t notice before. Emily always materialized by Lena, regardless of her desire, so how could she appear at Amélie’s room, and so effortlessly she didn’t even notice it?”

“I’m gonna check on her.” Emily whispered.

“Will you be able to come back when you do? What if it’s an one-time thing?”

Emily bit her lip. She wanted so much to stay in Amélie’s embrace, but… “What if something happened?”

Amélie looked away but nodded. That was true, and she didn’t want to be selfish and keep Emily to herself when Lena could be in need of help. “Go, then. We’ll talk later.”

Emily nudged her cheek with her nose gently. “Soon, promise.” And she let go of her physical form.

 

\--

 

It wasn’t difficult for her to track Lena’s energy now. In fact, even in the first days it wasn’t; she had a very singular signature, vibrant and warm, slight diffused and lively, easy to follow. The time with her had just amplified the distance to which she could pick it up, and now Emily was pretty sure she could find her with eyes closed (figuratively, of course - she didn’t actually have eyes in that form) from the other side of London if required.

So, when she appeared outside a place engulfed by a dark cloud with an internal blue glow, she was very confused. What the fuck was that? It didn’t feel malevolent, but it had such a raw strength she couldn’t even stand too close or she felt it would crush her - and Lena was inside, undoubtedly. Sometimes mortals wandered into places they really shouldn’t, unaware of the magical energies into play. Sometimes, spirits led them there through trickery or suggestion, to make it easier to get what they wanted. Emily didn’t have a way of knowing what was going on inside, but she really hoped Lena was okay there.

Anxiety crept into her as she waited, though. Nothing happened, the cloud moved slowly, mute, and she wanted so much just to know what was going on she considered trying to materialize there and walk in as a mortal - but that would be a huge mistake, given that she’d still be partly affected by the massive energy. She could go back and ask Amélie to call, but that would depend on Lena’s phone to actually be turned on and working, which she doubted a bit.

Damn, what could she do?! Would that day really be all about how powerless she was to help when things were critical? Because she’d be so mad if it was so…!

As she finished the thought, Emily sensed something weird and definitely menacing inside the cloud, and shortly after Lena’s energy peaked and resonated like a chord out of tune before diminishing to a weak, uneven trace. Emily felt everything turn to ice inside, and then she burst into a fire of pure resolve as she ran straight to the cloud. _She was going inside no matter what._

As she hit it, though, she found herself literally rewinding her steps to the spot she was before, with no control over it. She stopped and stared. Fuck! What could she--?!

She turned her head quickly to see a jeep going out of the cloud at full speed, taking that faint energy within it. There, nothing shielded it - Emily was able to phase onto the back of the car easily, crouching on the spare tire and holding on the seats.

Ana immediately whipped back with her rifle pointed at Emily, and almost made the woman fall from surprise. “You!” She snarled and put the gun away. Carrero looked at the elderly woman as if she was crazy, but shrugged and went back to her own business. Everyone there was a bit mad, after all.

Emily looked from Ana to Carrero and finally to Lena, twitching and turning on their laps. “What happened to her?!”

“Young foolishness!” Ana grunt. “I’ll tell you later. First, the hospital!”

Emily nodded. Whatever hell was going on, she could wait to get informed on it.

Damn, how would she tell Amélie about that…?

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yossarian, Jrade and Yumiru for the beta reading! <3  
> Also a shout out to Drayna for helping with French, thanks a lot o/  
>  
> 
>  _"Mon Dieu, je ne sais pas.”_ \- My God, I don't know.  
>  _“Tu es parfaite, ma chérie.”_ \- You're perfect, my love.
> 
>  _Song references_  
>  Satellite Mind - Metric  
> Starlight - Muse  
> Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day  
> Always - Bon Jovi  
> You’re Welcome - Moana OST
> 
> Consent definition taken from [here](https://www.ldoceonline.com/dictionary/consent)


	14. Chapter 14

The first time she woke up and acknowledged it, everything was a blur of light and moving colors. Lena’s head buzzing and beeping, and stepped back into unconsciousness.

The second time, there was a halo of light permeating everything, making it extremely difficult to keep her eyes open. There was something attached to the lower part of her face, uncomfortable against her skin. She was too heavy to do anything about it, though, and she slipped back into the comfort of sleep.

The third time, everything was glowing blue motion. She knew she was talking incessantly, screaming, crying against… A console? She was lost - but she was also too heavy to do any of that, too dazed to even avert her eyes from the white of the ceiling. She might have inquired what the hell that was but she couldn’t think, and wouldn’t remember any of it afterwards.

The fourth time she woke up, the first thing she noticed was how dry her mouth felt. Then she heard beeps and soft snoring from the side, and finally opened her eyes. Lena saw herself in a hospital room in dim light, and she would have noticed how comfortable and expensive the place looked if she wasn’t immediately worried by the way her vision was unaligned, resulting in things overlapped and mismatched by a margin way bigger than she’d consider usual for her when it happened. She tried to focus on the curtains to see if it was a matter of time until the vision went back to normal, but not only did it not work but it also made her sick, so she looked away. Ana was there, sitting on an armchair by her side, snoring. 

Why was she in a hospital room, what happened? Her memory was all hazy, and when she raised a hand to take some hair out of her face, the IV in her arm pulled and it hurt like hell.

Ana immediately opened her eyes when she heard the painful howl that came right after, and reached for something that wasn’t really there besides the armchair. She dropped her shoulders and sighed in relief when she saw it was just Lena, though. “You’re awake.”

“It hurts!” She cried out, and the voice sounded coarse and low to her ears. Damn. 

“Well it should, it’s attached to your vein and you just dislodged it. Look, it’s bleeding.”

“How do you say that with all this calm?!” Lena asked, trying to keep calm and definitely not cry as she turned to face Ana better. She had dealt with pain worse than that before, she could do it again.

Well, not directly in the vein…

“Well dear, I’ve patched people with severed limbs in the war, so this is nothing.” Ana raised an eyebrow and nothing else. She could have been in her living room drinking tea and Lena wouldn’t notice the difference.

No, actually, if she was home she wouldn’t be this dry with her, she was fairly sure.

A nurse came in with medical supplies and stopped on her tracks when she saw Lena awake. “Oh hello there! Did you sle-- oh, you’ve dislodged the IV That won’t do, we’ll have to grab a new one. Here, let me patch this up.”

She went to the woman and started the procedures to take the IV out completely, and Lena made a point of looking the other way and whining the least she could because of the pain.

“How are you feeling?” The nurse asked, without taking her eyes out of the work.

Lena took a moment to answer. “Numb. my head aches and my vision is weird…”

She finished the job, cleaned the wound and put a bandage over it. “Right. I’ll call the doctor right away and tell him you’re awake, then I’ll be back with a new IV.”

Lena nodded slightly. “Okay, thanks.”

Both her and Ana watched as the woman went out of the room silently, and turned back to each other as the door closed.

“What happened…?” Lena bit her lip. “I… Cor, I feel awful.”

“Oh, I should be asking that.” Ana glared, and Lena swore even her blind eye was killing her behind the patch. “I’d be very interested in why on Earth you went out with that brat  _ Sombra _ , took a  _ car  _ and almost killed yourself in a  _ race _ , you complete idiot!” 

Lena stared at her with a blank expression. “I did that?”

“Yes. _Yes_ _you did_.”

“Blimey…!”

“Don’t ‘blimey’ me,  _ flight lieutenant! _ ” Ana snarled and she immediately straightened on the bed. The elderly woman using her rank in that tone was something that instinctively got to her because of lots and lots of military training and their shared history - It just screamed impending punishment.

“I really don’t remember, Ana. Sorry!” She tried, and the confusion in her eyes was so genuine Ana scoffed and looked away.

“You probably will, as far as these things go with you. Then you’ll have to tell me.”

“Aye, cap!” Lena smirked, relieved. At least she wouldn’t have to answer for crimes she didn’t remember yet! But bloody hell, a car race…? What was she thinking…?

“Now, let me take a good look at you, dear.” Ana’s expression softened and she got up, gently taking Lena’s hair out of her face as she wanted before, and the woman leaned into her touch and smiled.

 

\--

 

As far as those things went, it could have been worse, Lena supposed. She had heard so many times the difficult technical terms that she had a quite good idea of what the doctor was saying even before he “translated” it back to English, and he was talking about the damage she inflicted on the areas already affected by the beating a year and a half before. The preliminary exams showed it was not permanent, thankfully,  but pushing herself as she did had a definite negative impact on her brain: she’d have to deal with its effects, like the mismatching vision, until the medicines and probable physiotherapy could act into it.

It was not something new for her, but it was hugely demotivating.  _ It’s your own doing _ , Lena reminded herself as she was taken from an exam room to another,  _ deal with it like a woman. _ She wanted to cry, though. She wanted so much just to sit somewhere and cry in the arms of someone she loved - because, she learned soon enough, it wasn’t just her vision that was strange. Her coordination was messed up and her head spinned everytime she turned a bit quicker than normal. She trembled like an old washing machine when she tried to walk herself. It was just as if she was back to her state a year before, and it was infuriating and sad and depressing, and it was her fault.

Fault, by the way that she remembered more and more by the moment, and she cringed at her own foolishness. What was she thinking?!

She did not remember the voice with her in the car or the things she saw in the corner of her eyes.

Winston arrived sometime between the exams, but no matter if he was paying for the accommodations, he was still a gorilla in a hospital, and they only let him go so far as to wait for Lena and Ana inside her room.

When she arrived in a wheelchair and saw him there, sitting awkwardly on the floor, she got up quite painfully and made a point of walking towards him herself, even with the shaking and affected balance. He picked her up midway and gave her a cautious, relieved hug.  _ “Don’t you ever do this to me again, Lena!” _ he whispered, full of emotion.  _ “I’m so glad you’re ok!” _

The way she started crying was an answer in itself.   
  


\--

 

“I did it because I was stupid and didn’t think things through.”

Ana turned to face Lena with a puzzled look. “You mean the race?”

“Yeah.” She stared at the ceiling and talked flatly, like she was too tired to care anymore. “The guy was being bloody disgusting and I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. A race seemed like the only thing I could beat him at.” 

“So all of this because of a fight that could’ve been avoided.”

“Yeah. You can give me the dumb award, I deserve it.”

Winston raised his eyes from the paper he was reading silently on the corner. “Now, now. What happened is punishment enough, Lena... But it’s good that you know how foolish it was, in the end.”

“And it was  _ very _ foolish, just for the record.” Ana added.

“Regardless,” Winston got up and went to Lena, putting a hand over hers. “We’re here for you.”

The door opened violently before she could reply, bringing a torrent of angry French followed by Amélie storming into the room. She had the posture of a queen and eyes of an executioner, and the poor receptionist who walked in after her looked breathless and frightened as she tried to talk to her.

“M-miss, you can’t just walk in like that, only two people are allo--”

“ _ Lena, ma chérie!” _ Amélie completely ignored the woman and went to Lena, taking her face in her hands. Her golden eyes melted in relief and affection as she took account of the woman before her, a bit pale but otherwise well. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Amé, how…” Lena blinked a bit, confused. “Who told you?”

Ana smiled at the scene, then gestured to Winston and the receptionist, signaling they’d better give the women some privacy. Amélie waited for them to leave before answering the question.

“Emily, of course. Now answer me.” Her words were harsh, but it was more a product of urgency than anything else.

“I had a mental overload, I think.” Lena bit her lip. While she was emotionless before, telling that to Amélie was a whole different matter than to Winston and Ana. They knew her and had seen this behavior - and had this disappointment - before. Not Amélie. In fact, she felt ten times more ashamed of herself for making her worried. “I was an idiot, went ahead and fucked myself bad this time. It’s not really excusable.”

“It was because of our argument.” Amélie gave her a searching look, and Lena averted her gaze. She didn’t want to vocalize it, but the silence was just as much a confirmation. “Oh  _ chérie…” _

“...You were right.” Lena’s voice was starting to falter. “About everything, I guess. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Amélie hugged her tight and in face of that, Lena couldn’t help herself but cry.

“I… I wasn’t lying to you, though. I really wasn’t!” She continued. “That’s… all I told you… it’s real important. I’m just an asshole.”

“Hush. “ Amélie held Lena’s head on her chest and massaged the back of her neck, drawing a satisfied moan. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Lena. I don’t know what I would do if you were hurt.”

“...I am.”

Lena proceeded to tell her about what she felt wrong in her body at the moment, how the doctor was almost sure she’d need medicine again and how she deserved it all because of her stupidity.

Amélie heard it all quietly, nodding a time or other. Her expression turned grave and her eyes glistened with pooling tears, but she made a point of not letting them fall or making a sound for the sake of the Lena; she was already sad enough and didn’t need that on top of it all.

When Emily called from a payphone, the first thing she said was that Lena would be okay, she was in the hospital being taken care of. Who Amélie had in her arms at the moment was someone very much  _ not _ okay. The destructive behavior was not healthy in the least, the lack of life in her words was unsettling, and Amélie wanted so much to say something impactful to make her feel better, but she didn’t know what or how and it was so unfair, as Lena always had a kind word to everyone.

Everyone but herself, it seemed.

Why was it so difficult to put in words how grateful she was to have her in her life, and how much she was loved?

Amélie felt her leg starting to hurt because of the stride there and the amount of time in the same position. Shifting her weight didn’t really change much, and she knew she’d have to sit soon in order to prevent a sharper pain. She also didn’t want to let go of Lena, who seemed to be finally stopping crying. Maybe if she pulled that armchair closer…

A soft knock on the door and a nurse went in, bringing supper, ending her predicament. Amélie sat in the armchair and watched as the man arranged the meal skilfully on a moveable table and fit it in front of Lena over the bed, then left with a smile and a courteous  _ bon appetit _ that the French woman turned up the nose at.

“Chicken soup.” Lena announced, raising an eyebrow. “I guess I gotta eat it.”

“Go right ahead,  _ chérie _ .”

“It’s too early…” She sighed. Hospital schedules were so weird. “Well, whatever.”

Lena picked up the spoon and Amélie held her breath. Her hands trembled, and it seemed to get worse when she had to hold something. After some cursing and dropping the thing once, she was able to put it in the bowl. That was a good start; she still had to actually be able to take it to her mouth without spilling everything.

She couldn’t. And when she tried again, she failed.

There was a tight and delicate control that Amélie had woven over herself before going to the hospital. It took hours of talking to Emily to disperse the fear Lena would die or suffer something serious. Hours of convincing herself everything would be fine, Lena had just suffered of something sudden and easily treatable by competent professionals. Hours of gathering her resolve, putting on a brave face and actually being able to leave and turn that hospital upside down if needed.

She was not ready to see the actual consequences in play. She was not well equipped for the single question that rose from it:  _ What if Lena had to deal with that permanently? _

That was when the control snapped, and when a sudden hand on her shoulder made her turn. Emily was there, her face blank, her eyes devoid of color, tinged by only a stroke of the lightest grey.

“Amé, it’s time for you to go.” She muttered.

“Emily?! When did you arrive?” Lena let go of the spoon and looked at them both, going silent at the intensity of the look they exchanged.

None of them said a word, but Amélie nodded and got up, heading for the door. Emily only gave Lena a side glance as she followed, but it was enough to impress her greatly - something in her eyes, a faint red over the pale blue, packed an anger that hit her like a punch to the stomach. She couldn’t help but think that the muse really hated her, and she couldn’t even claim it was unfounded. Lena shrunk on the bed and rolled the table with the soup aside, putting a lid over the bowl with a bit of a struggle. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

Bloody hell, she was  _ so stupid _ .   
  


\--

 

It took her whole strength not to start crying inside, but once they were out and she was able to look Emily in the eyes, Amélie just let herself fall apart. She didn’t even notice it properly when she was guided to the guest room and was made to sit on an armchair by the wall. All eyes were on her for a moment, full of pity and some curiosity, but people were polite enough to avert their gaze before long. They were in a hospital, in the end, and outbursts like those weren’t at all uncommon.

Amélie barely registered as Emily talked to Winston and Ana, informing them Lena would need some help with her dinner, and the gorilla left. She just cried and sobbed, unable to even think of anything, and it felt like an eternity before it calmed enough for her to acknowledge her state: trembling in the muse’s arms and soaking her chest in tears, feeling miserable, guilty and powerless towards the events. Even more for bothering the people around her that much, especially Emily.

She was such a burden. People would be better off without her. If she hadn’t pressed Lena the other day she wouldn’t have gone out of her way and involved herself in an accident. She would be okay, not hurt… What if she got impaired for life?!

Was it possible that everything… Everyone she loved was tainted by her touch? Was she a sort of twisted King Midas after all, sealing her loved ones’ fate to car accidents and possible fatal injuries?!

She should die. She should leave everyone in peace.

“Amélie.” Emily whispered softly near her ear. “She will be okay.”

Lie. Had she not seen how Lena was shaking, had she not heard the words? She was hurt, and all because of her....!

“She was shaking and… and it’s my fault!”

Emily distanced herself just enough and raised Amélie’s chin gently, making her look right into her eyes. “No it’s not. She did it by her own free will.”

“But if we hadn’t argued--”

“But you did. And it was on her to handle the stress of it, not you.” Emily gave her a little, comprehensive smile. “Your mind is lying to you, it’s not your fault at all.”

“But I…” Amélie’s voice died down with her resolve, and she simply looked away, all energy depleted.

Emily wanted to kill Lena for that. She really did. But more than that, she wanted desperately to mend that reopened wound however she could.

The great question was, could she?

“Listen, I’ll call your psychologist and ask her for directions, how does it sound?” Emily said just for her, as a secret. “She’ll be able to help you more than I can right now. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t  _ deserve  _ any of it.” She replied quietly. “Her care or… You.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you noticed I’m well aware of what or who deserves me, didn’t you? Because I feel like I should remind you you’re on the absolute top of the list.”

“You should get someone better, then.”

Someone scoffed to her side, and both of them saw Ana staring at them with a cynical and quite inquisitive look as she took a sip of coffee in a plastic cup.

“I wasn’t going to intrude on your little discussion, you see, too personal, but it got a bit revolting to watch.”

“Excuse me?” This time Emily scoffed, disbelieving.

“Let me talk, ginger - I’m not revolted with any of you.” She gave her look. “I’m revolted that this whole situation led you to believe it was your fault, girl, when it isn’t even the first time Lena did something of this nature.”

“What…?” Amélie turned to see the elder woman better, an ember of curiosity suddenly crackling inside of her. It was small, but better than the cold night that took over before.

Emily noticed this little shift and leapt at the opportunity to encourage it. “What did she do?”

Ana’s eyes became distant for a moment, lost in memories. “Well, the whole reason I met her was to take her out of trouble, in the first place.”

And she started telling them the tale.

 

\--   
  


The briefing her friend in the RAF gave her was simple and way too common: An official previously under his command suffered a serious injury and could no longer fly. She - and at that Ana had been mildly surprised, the official was just a girl, barely out of her teenage years - had been seeing doctors and following a treatment and therapy, but now the RAF would no longer support her by workers rights, as she had not been deemed eligible for retirement, and she had to follow on her own path. She was strong and could follow on her own, the commander told Ana, but he knew she wasn’t taking her new situation well.  _ She’d build a rocket from scratch and set course to the moon if that was what it took for her to able to fly again,  _ he told her,  _ but without even a sparkle of hope, I fear she will lose herself. That’s the life she always wanted, Ana, taken from her hands at such a young age… _

Ana read the files. The best scores, a worrying propensity for the most difficult maneuvers and flamboyance in the training courses but deadly efficiency and precision in the skies. Such an  extensive number of deployments and general achievements she’d probably have been promoted soon, so young. That girl had been completely in her element, and one could have argued it was her destiny to take the skies. Ana certainly wouldn’t have disagreed then.

It just made it all sadder when she finally found her, sleeping drunk inside a completely trashed vehicle, drooling and hugging a bottle of beer like a lover. Ana hit the side of the car with the metal tip of her boots, making a loud sound. The woman jumped up, immediately falling awkwardly to the floor and cursing loudly as she couldn’t get up without help.

She tried to talk to her then, to no avail.

When they next met, the girl was hanging out with a group of lowlifes who called themselves  _ los muertos _ , running around the poorest neighborhoods of London wrecking things, drinking and graffiting places like nothing really mattered. Ana wasn’t concerned with thugs like those, but their leader, a mexican woman with an unsettling knowingly smile, certainly meant trouble: Ana couldn’t see her as she saw other people, it was like her aura was completely cloaked. Her whole life, she had never encountered someone who could do it that completely. She’d have to keep her guard high in her presence.

Sombra didn’t get involved when Ana approached and called for Lena, though. She just watched as the conversation turned to an argument and led to nothing, just as the other five times she’d try to talk to her that month.

Then came the fateful day where she found Lena sitting in front of the glass panels in one of the boarding areas of the Heathrow Airport, watching the planes on the runway. For a while, Ana just watched from a distance, wondering how she got there without a ticket, surveying her actions. There was none; Lena had the stare of someone who gave everything they had and it wasn’t enough, and now was devoid of any strength or desire to carry on.

That time, Ana approached gently and sat by her side, being greeted only by a quick glance and nothing else. She started talking honestly about knowing who she was, reading her file, learning of her condition. Of how she wanted to help, and how things could be better if she gave it a chance. She spoke of many, many things with no reaction whatsoever from Lena, until she mentioned who asked her to look for the woman. At that, Lena scoffed, disbelieving; her commander would never do such a thing. He hated her. Hated her guts, hated her fearless way of flying, hated her cheerful personality and most of all, he hated that she was a woman and an ace at her job.

Ana smiled and took an official-looking envelope out of her coat, extending it to Lena.  _ He told me to give you this _ , she said.  _ He knew you wouldn’t believe me otherwise. _

Lena frowned and opened it.  Ana looked at the view as she read, to give her some privacy, but it was impossible to ignore it when she started crying that desperately.

They talked more and left to Ana’s flat, the first time Lena would visit it. She spent the afternoon and the night there, with a warm meal, fresh clothes and a bed in the guests room.

The next morning, they discovered Lena had crashed Fareeha’s car in the middle of the night, trying to prove herself she still could at least retain a bit of her pride and drive a vehicle.

 

\--

 

“You see, that’s what she does when she snaps.” Ana concluded with a very tired-of-this-bulshit look. “Stupid things that could get her killed.”

“That’s such a poor way to cope I can’t even… Urgh.” Emily rolled her eyes and grumbled. She had very conflicted feelings raging inside: on one hand, she wanted so much to punch Lena in the face for her stupidity, but on the other she was an empath, she felt how much she was hurting inside that room and needed reassurance and love at the moment. She really needed to hear some harsh words, too. Urgh - so complicated.

Amélie, on the other hand, was much calmer after Ana’s words. She still felt like it was all her fault, she inadvertently made Lena lose it, but there was something she could use there, and that knowledge kept her mind on its place. “How did you get her to cooperate, after that? She’s certainly not a delinquent anymore.”

“I guess she’ll always be, in her heart.” Ana chucked, as if it was an inside joke. “But anyway, that part wasn’t me. Or not just me - it was Winston. He came all the way back from a congress in the United States when he heard she had an accident, and then learnt of the last months and what she’d been doing. They’ve known each other since they were little, and she listens to him.”

Emily noticed the thoughtful look the other woman assumed and didn’t want to risk it being something foolish that would make her feel worse. “What’s on your mind, Amé?”

“If I can make amends and actually help her.”

“Girl, as far as I’m concerned you just told the truth, you have nothing to apologize for.” Ana finished her coffee and got up, heading for the trash bin.

“I agree. She said herself you were right.” Emily took Amélie’s hands and squeezed, giving her a encouraging smile. Amélie looked at their hands, though.

“It still led her to this, though, and now she’s impaired. Did you see how she’s shaking…?”

Amélie’s breakdown suddenly got very clear in Emily’s mind.  _ Impaired. _ It was how Amélie felt, even if it wasn’t true. It was what deprived her of her life as a ballet dancer, she thought, even though the only thing it actually stripped her of was of doing it in the highest levels. Lena Oxton could no longer drive anything because of a head trauma, she was impaired too, and if because of the last accident it started affecting her coordination… She didn’t know if Amélie could stand that, and a very real fear flooded the muse.

“It’s not permanent.” Ana intervened as she walked back. “The doctor said it’s an effect of pushing her brain too far yesterday, but she’s going to recover if she takes the medication and follows the physiotherapy.”

“And we’ll make sure she does.” Emily added. “Won’t we?”

“...What if it doesn’t work?”

Emily stopped and looked inside. She wanted so much to slap Lena’s face, she was so  _ angry _ , but that anger was born of the fear of losing her and now was fueled by the fear of what was yet to be. She understood exactly what Amélie was feeling at the moment. What could happen from now on, Lena’s reactions, the pain it could cause to all of them… It was impossible not to think of those things, but... She was alive. Their particular sun was alive, and it was all that mattered.

“Will you love her any less?” The muse opened a small smile, and Amélie finally understood.

“Never.” She also smiled. 

“So there you have it. We’ll make it work, no matter what.”

Looking at them both, Ana herself couldn’t help but smile. Lena had found two very peculiar women to keep by her side and, if she was correct, not only there… Time would tell. She’d be paying attention.

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's when the shitstorm ceases. Or is it...?
> 
> Thank you my awesome beta readers, Yumiru, Jrade and Yossarian. You're the best!
> 
> Also shout out to Buttons for giving me some medical input that ended up real subtle, but was so nice to know about o/


	15. Chapter 15

The clock on the side table announced it was 3:36am. The room was dim, a night lamp providing most of the illumination. Lena had been whining and mumbling in her sleep, until she woke up startled, still feeling the pain in her chest after being slammed to the side of a building and falling. She inhaled sharply, feeling the air flood her lungs, and let go with a relieved sigh.  _ Just a nightmare, _ she told herself.  _ Wow, I have the most absurd ones. _

Regardless of her dreams, Lena felt warm and comfortable, and that was probably because that place was so expensive that even the patient beds were better than what she had at home. Damn, how much was Winston paying for all that…? Her eyes darted to the silhouette of the gorilla sleeping on the carpet with an assortment of blankets and pillows, and she smiled. Winston was always there for her. He deserved better than a troublemaker full of issues, she really had to make it up to him somehow. Or at least put him in the top of the list of people she had to make it up to, which was currently quite long.

It was incredible how she somehow found a way to fuck everything up everytime. Sometimes, she wished she could just magically disappear with her problems and leave people to be happy without her - clearly she was doing such a poor job, anyway.

But she couldn't. She had to solve her own issues and make amends as a grown up woman, just like everybody else. It was so complicated.

Her train of thought was interrupted by some movement on the corner of her eye. Lena turned and saw a redhead sitting on the floor by her, leaning on the bed. The rail supports were high and obstructed the vision partially, but she was pretty sure there was only one redhead that could be there in the middle of the night, especially because only Winston had been there when she went to sleep.

“Emily…? Is that you…?” She sat down clumsily, trying to take a better look.

The woman turned to face her like lightning, eyes wide from surprise. Then she looked at herself, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, exasperated. “Yes. I am… Physical again. I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t  _ notice _ ?” Lena frowned. “Is that normal?”

“There’s been some weird stuff happening lately.” She turned back to face Lena. “I should go.”

“No, please wait!” Lena instinctively raised an arm to reach her, but the movement came weirdly cropped, like there was a delay between order and execution. She cursed under her breath and let the arm fall, ashamed. Emily stared. Lena felt like shit. “I… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can talk to you right now without punching you in the face, Lena. I’ve been struggling with this the whole day.” She had such a serious, uncharacteristic tone. It tore at Lena’s heart.

“I-It’s okay. I get it. I just...I’m bloody stupid.”

“Yes you are.”

“Just please stay?”

The yearning in her face was such, even if she was trying to conceal it under a neutral façade, that Emily rolled her eyes and nodded, despite herself. She got up heavily and took a while putting one of the rail supports down, then she sat on the bed and stared at Lena, before speaking very carefully: “Do you have any idea what this has done to Amélie?”

“I saw it in her eyes. Before she left, I mean.”

“She was holding back for your sake.” Emily replied, still contained but letting some sharp edges show in her tone. “But the very idea she could’ve led you to be impaired in some form because she triggered you into being reckless made her want to  _ die _ , Lena.”

“I--”

“Gérard died  _ in a fucking car accident _ and she still blames herself for it!” Emily raised her voice unconsciously, as rage started slipping through her control. Lena backed away a bit.

“I just--”

“What would we do if you died too?!”

“It would hardly matter to you, I suppose!” 

Emily recoiled a bit, surprised, then squinted her eyes in a dumbfounded and slightly offended expression. “ _ What? _ ”

“What you just heard, Emily! All this time - the whole fucking day I bet - you were there so angry because I hurt your precious Amélie and never once you asked how I was doing, did you?!” Tears started falling and Lena meant to wipe them quickly, but the lack of control made her make a mess on her face. She pulled her hand away as soon as it happened, but it still made her feel like thrash - a bit more than she was already, anyway.

“I  _ knew _ you were stable, the doctors--”

“Yeah?! Did the doctors tell you how I was doing in here too?!” She pointed to her forehead angrily. “Oh nevermind, why should you waste your precious time with the  _ mistake _ that had the gall to hurt your girlfriend?!”

_ “Enough, both of you!”  _ Winston’s voice boomed as he got up from his improvised bed and stared at them with a heavily disapproving look. “What do you think you’re doing, arguing like that when Lena should be resting?!”

He was right and they knew it, but neither was up to admitting it. Instead, Emily got up and Lena focused on a point in her blanket, likely dealing with something happening in her vision.

“You think I don’t care for you…” Emily whispered sadly.

The door suddenly opened, a nurse peeking in with a concerned look. “Excuse me, is everything okay here? I think I heard you talking loudly.”

Winston was the one who answered. “Oh yeah, you see - nightmares. It took me a while to wake her up.” He chuckled awkwardly and scratched his beard. “Do you think you need a depressant, Lena?”

“Only if it’s fatal.” She replied, laying back down.

Emily had already vanished.

 

\--

 

Angela Ziegler came in early the next morning to visit Lena, bringing Amélie with her. She apologized profusely for not being able to make it the previous day, and asked for the doctor currently taking care of the woman. They chatted and laughed a bit, and when the doctor arrived she excused herself to go talk to to him about more serious matters, leaving Winston, Amélie and Lena in the room. The gorilla, ever sensible, found an excuse and left the two ladies alone to talk as they wanted.

Amélie immediately sat by Lena on the bed, smiling at the way she dangled her legs off the side. “How are you doing today, Lena?”

“Better, I guess? At least I can stand without shaking like I’m in an earthquake. It feels more like a particularly wonky bus now.” She smiled faintly and shrugged. “And you…?”

“I’m happy you are ok.” She smiled back. Lena opened her mouth and closed it again, hesitating.  “...Yes?”

“I know you ended up pretty bad yesterday. I’m sorry. N-none of this is your fault, you know, it’s all on me. You were right.” She stared at her hands.

“You told me yesterday.”

“Just making sure you remember, luv. And I’m really glad you’re here.”

Amélie chuckled. Even when she was in bad shape, Lena had to make sure she was okay, it was so kind of her. The world needed more people like that, she thought. “I don’t think you can get rid of me at this point,  _ chérie _ . Not when you’ve been this delightful friend all this time.”

“Wow, I… Thanks!” Lena faced her again, surprised. She didn’t expect anything like that from someone as reserved as Amélie, but it was certainly welcome.

“We’re going to put you back on track as soon as possible. I’ll make sure of it.”

She chuckled. “What, like a sergeant?”

“If that’s what you want to go with, sure.” Amélie gave her an amused look, like she was thinking of the other implications of that part of the conversation.

“That’s hot.”

“Oh? Am I sensing an uniform fetish,  _ chérie _ ?” She smiled darkly, and Lena turned completely red.

“N-no! I mean,  _ I _ was an woman in uniform and-- Blimey Amé, stop looking at me like that!”

“I’ll let Emily know.”

That didn’t result in the reaction Amélie learnt to expect, a very flustered or cheeky Lena. Instead her face fell and she sighed, clearly saddened, and Amélie didn’t know what to make of it except that something must have happened between them in the span of time where she went home.

“Lena… what happened?” “She tilted her head a bit.

“Me being shit. Nothing new.”

Should Lena tell her she was kind of in the center of the argument? Because it seemed like an impressively bad idea to tell her she threw a tantrum over the fact that Emily cared more about Amélie than her, even when she was in a hospital. No, she wouldn’t do it.

“That sounds extremely odd.”

“I’m glad you don’t know that part of me, then.” Lena shook her head.

Amélie wanted to ask what exactly they had argued about to leave Lena in such angst, but good manners prevented her from doing so. Instead she chose to hug her shoulders and squeezed.

“You’re having some bad days, but give it time. You two are going to be okay... I know all about these.“ Lena nodded and leaned towards Amélie, snuggling to her chest. She wrapped her arms around the girl in return.   
  


\--   
  


Lena was cleared to go home that afternoon. Winston asked if she wanted to go have a gigantic ice cream, but she’d rather go home and rest a bit. He knew that probably meant she was going to lay down and sulk, so he’d stay by her and maybe bake some cookies for later, as he knew how much she liked sweet things.

When they arrived at Lena’s flat - after Winston carrying her in his arms up the staircase, which just contributed to her depressed mood - both their plans were put on hold, though: the furniture was moved to the center of the living room and Ana was inscribing something in arabic on the walls, with luminescent paint.

“Ana what the  _ fuck?!”  _ Lena shouted. She wasn’t angry, not yet - surprise took her fully, she just wanted to know what was going on.

Ana gave them an annoyed look as she half turned. “Protecting this place, of course. Now both of you be quiet so I can finish the job.”

Winston walked further in the living room, looking around and adjusting his glasses. “What  _ is _ this, though?”

“A ward, since our Lena here seem to have attracted unwanted attention from the other side.” She said as she kept inscribing.

“What? What are you talking about, I don’t even…” Lena looked from Ana to Winston, who shrugged, then back again. “What side?”

“Your ginger's side, Lena. Can you be quiet? I’ll explain to you later, I promise.”

Lena really wanted to argue that she still didn’t understand a thing, but she groaned instead. “That and put the furniture back in place.” Then she left for the bedroom, laid down and covered herself to the head with the blanket.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, tired and sad, but Ana certainly timed her entry in the room to happen just when she was about to sleep, just to fuck even more with her mood. “Are you awake, Lena?”

“Was sleeping.” She grumbled.

“Well good thing you’re not anymore, sit down and I’m going to explain what’s going on.

“Later…?”

“Now, Lena. I still have things to do, you know.”

“Fiiiine.” She sat down reluctantly and stared at the elderly woman with a frown. “What was that about a ward and me attracting attention, by the way?”

“To explain that, I fear I have to go right to the beginning.” Ana stared at her, dead serious. “Everything has a an unique form of energy and aura, you know that, right?”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Is this when you say ‘ _ You’re a witch, Lena? _ ’”

“No, you’re not that special.” Ana snickered as her expression shifted with disbelief. “But you are definitely different, yes.”

“...How?”

“As I was saying, everyone has an energy signature. Stronger, weaker, wavy, disperse, glittery, opaque, glassy… Yours is this massively uplifting shiny blue - the sort of thing negative spirits love to prey upon. That’s why you need extra protection.”

“...Wait a moment. How do I know you’re not saying a load of bullshit, and how do you know that?”

“Lena you have a spirit ginger girlfriend who pops out of nowhere, is what I’m saying any less likely than that?” Ana gave her a look, then pointed to her good eye. “Anyway, I can see the other plane. It’s a perk shared by all the Amari women, and we get the tattoo as badge of it. We’re guardians since the time of the pharaohs, they say.”

“...Not my girlfriend, Ana.” She crisped her lips and spaced out for a moment, then she noticed she hadn’t said the other part yet. “Wait, you’re a guardian like,  _ my _ guardian? Like an angel or something?”

“Yes your guardian, but definitely not an angel. Although sometimes I wonder, given what I have to put up with…” She expected Lena to object, outraged, but she just shrugged. “You do know I’m joking, right?”

“Might as well be the truth, considering I’m fucking things up over and over lately, and I’m not even sure it wasn’t like that before or I just convinced myself of it.”

This was bad. The whole time Ana knew Lena, she learnt her emotions were often so strong she couldn’t really help how clear they were to other people. She was remarkably happy and upbeat, sometimes angry and reckless, but sad… She’d only seen Lena really sad on rare occasions, and it was always a trainwreck of depressive behavior. 

“Girl, you’re going to get through this and recover, you’ve done it before. Regardless of your mistakes, you’re a fighter and you’ll make it.”

“I’m not that sure...” She looked away, to the wall.

“I know some people that think you will, me included. What else is on your mind?”

“Emily.” She made a pause, and Ana waited. “You could always see her when she was a spirit, walking around?”

“Yes. I gave her a right scare when I actually met her physically… I thought she was trying to feed off of you.” She giggled, remembering. “I believe we were almost arrested that day, if I remember well.”

“Have you seen her today?”

That would’ve been a strange question, but Ana actually knew what it was about this time. Emily herself had told her.

“She came to trade some information about the place you went with the silly punks. We were both concerned about it… Let me tell you upfront: going to a cursed place is generally a bad idea, but going to a cursed place being a target as much as you are… There’s just no way it’ll end well. Ever.”

“Great, it was really cursed, then.” Lena’s tone was emotionless, and she slipped back to bed, covering herself. “Makes me feel so much better.”

“Well, I concede that you didn’t have a way of knowing that. Still, I wonder how frightened the ginger must have been that she tried to plunge into that cloud of unstable energy to get to you.” Ana mumbled more to herself than Lena, but she heard and raised her head. Emily had tried to get to her but she couldn’t? A cloud of energy? That rang an alarm in her head, but she couldn’t say why at the moment. It should mean something, but her mind was empty and it was infuriating. “I’ll let you rest now.”

“Ana. If you… See her again… tell her I’m sorry.”

Ana’s eye softened and she smirked. “She knows.”

With that, she went out the door.   
  


\--   
  


Three days later Lena was in her first physiotherapy session, accompanied by Amélie and Winston. Hana wanted to skip her shift and go too, but Lena made her stay - someone had to work after all, and Hana still didn’t make enough money with her streams to be able to survive out of them yet.

The session was painfully boring and frustrating, just as she remembered it: series of exercises she couldn’t really execute, pain, some falling, feeling like shit for failing. Still, her friends were encouraging and the doctor assured her she wouldn’t be able to magically get well in a moment, things would have to be taken slowly.

Lena hated slow.

What really made her get up from bed and try, though, was the fact that Amélie was going with her every time. She had promised she’d have some sessions for her leg in exchange for Lena doing it for her condition, and it was touching that she was willing to go to that length for her on something she never really thought of doing. If Amélie was doing it for Lena, then she’d do it for her too. 

“I think I’ll have to leave the coffee shop. It’ll be a while until I can hold a cup of anything without spilling, and that’s being optimistic.” Lena sighed, hugging her legs.

“That’s a shame, but maybe you could see it as an opportunity to focus more on your art?” Amélie suggested.

They sat on the floor of Lena’s living room (that looked exactly like she had left it before the accident, as if Ana had never “worked” there) completely exhausted from the session, eating cookies made by Winston and drinking tea.

“I’m trying, but having a wonky hand doesn’t help with the lines at all, love.” She sighed.

“The doctor did say repetition might help.”

“I know…” Lena looked at Winston as he approached with a second bowl of freshly baked cookies. “Winston you’re an angel.”

“Evidence suggests I’m a gorilla, actually.” He smiled, amused, and extended her the bowl. “I thought you could use another round.”

“You know me so well!” She sang happily as she picked it up. “Come, sit with us a bit!”

He did, but they didn’t have time to do anything before the muffled sound of something heavy falling made them turn and see Emily sitting on the couch in a very weird position, with huge eyes.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” She said, absentmindedly. “Ow.”

“Emily!” Lena jumped to her feet and regretted it immediately: Her vision darkened and she fell, being picked up by Winston before she hit the floor. It took her a good two seconds to come to her senses, and a bit more for her to understand what just happened, and why her vision was so blurry all of a sudden. 

“Lena! No sudden movements, remember?” The gorilla commented patiently, helping her sit down.

“Guess I do now.” She mumbled. 

Amélie finally took her eyes off Lena and to the newcomer, opening a smile and getting up slowly.  “Emily. It’s so good to see you!”

“Hello Amé… how have you been doing?” The muse also moved to sit properly on the couch. “Winston… Lena.”

The two women stared at each other for just a moment, and everything Lena had been thinking of saying just froze before those sad eyes.

“I found more about the curse on that place you were at. I need to talk to Ana.”

“I can call her, just a second.” Winston offered and got his phone from a pocket. It was almost a tablet, for him to be able to use the touch screen properly.

“You look so tired,  _ chérie. _ ” Amélie sat by Emily and took some hair away from her face in order to have a better look at her.

“I am. These were busy days.” She leaned into her touch with a soft sigh, like that was all she needed. “I had to go talk to a very unsettling woman. If anyone had a clue about what that cloud was, it was her.”

“Cloud?” Lena tilted her head. That evoked something in her mind, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. “What cloud…?”

Emily turned to face her. “There was a kind of glowing cloud around the place. I couldn’t get in.”

“Oh, Ana mentioned that!” So that was the relation Lena was looking for.

A quick knock on the door and Ana walked in without a care in the world, making Lena wonder why everyone just seemed to enter her apartment freely lately. Okay, Ana was her landlady and Winston had a copy of the key, but still…!

“You called, ginger? You look terrible, by the way.” The elder woman raised an eyebrow.

“I know.” Emily smiled. “Regardless, I know more about the cursed place.”

“So that’s why you weren’t around.”

“It’s got a curse of downfall in it. It was supposed to act slowly on people, bringing all sorts of misfortune. I’m guessing Lena was somehow more susceptible to it and it just sped up.”

“Interesting.” Ana put a hand on her chin and looked at Lena. “Your dumbness was sponsored, after all.”

“It doesn’t take the responsibility off my shoulders.” Lena shrugged.

“I never said it did. Well, now you know why it was such a bad idea to go there in the first place.”

“She couldn’t have known, Ana.” Emily intervened.

Ana smirked. “I also never said she could.”

Lena rolled her eyes. Typical of Ana, being unnecessarily a little shit. “Okay, but why are you two still so concerned about this? I’m not there anymore.”

“That’s not what we’re really concerned about.” Emily finally got up, walking slowly towards Lena. “There was someone there with you, I felt it. Some powerful spirit appeared, then right after your energy peaked and lowered so much I genuinely thought you were dying for a moment. That’s our concern - someone has their eyes on you.” She crouched and checked Lena quickly, then locked eyes on hers. “Knowing more about the place can unearth clues about them.”

“And about how to protect you.” Ana added.

“It’ll take me a while to absorb all this information about the supernatural,” Winston mumbled to himself, but his voice was too powerful for it to go unnoticed. Amélie patted him on the arm; she was a bit better informed but still felt in a similar way.

“Am I in danger then?” Lena inquired, looking from Emily to Ana.

“Not directly, no. Spirits rarely interact with mortals in a direct way.” Ana tilted her head, looking at Emily. “Unless in very exceptional circumstances.”

“And we’re doing what we can to ensure you won’t be bothered indirectly too.” Emily was serious, but it was nothing like the hospital; her voice was calm, her stare, soft, but the sadness was still pretty visible in those crystalline eyes. 

Lena’s chest tightened even more than it already was. Three days of angst wanting to apologize… She had to gather courage. “Emily can I talk to you? In private?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the hasty stutter Lena just fired. “Of course. Right now?” 

Lena nodded. She looked like she was making a considerable effort to keep herself calm, and the muse felt it would be good to give her some sort of reassurance. She picked up her hand and squeezed lightly, then got up and took her along, going for Lena’s bedroom. They could deal with the teasing it would certainly cause later - it was the nearest room with a door on it.

Emily leaned on the wall directly in front of Lena’s bed, where she was sitting, averting her gaze. A moment of silence passed and nothing changed; then Emily cleared her throat.

“So…” She started.

Lena took a deep, sharp breath. “What I told you that day was wildly unfair, Emily, and I’m so sorry. I keep discovering the things you’ve been doing while I was knocked out or in the hospital and they hit me in the face so hard because _ bloody hell _ , of course you care, and I was so butthurt and stupid! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! I understand if you want to stay away from me from now on.”

She almost stumbled on her words, as fast as she ran with them. She hugged her arms tight and looked ready to hide under her own bed, all the while averting Emily’s gaze, but clearly dying to see her reaction. 

Emily crossed her arms thoughtfully, considering her next words. “Funny for you to say that, wildly unfair… When it wasn’t that far from the truth”

Lena’s eyes darted up, confused. “What? No, I was just hurt and mean--”

“Oh I know that.” Emily quickly added, opening an amused smile. “I can assure you it  _ hurt _ , but when I stopped and thought properly about it, I really couldn’t take your words to heart. You had barely had time to process everything and I was reckless, angry and said a lot of shit to you. I apologize.”

Lena blinked some times, mouth comically ajar. She had ran a simulation of her apology so many times in her head and now that it really had come to it, Emily not only accepted it fully but was also apologizing? That was really unexpected... And great.

“That said” Emily continued, trying not to laugh of her expression “I also realized you just couldn’t have come up with something like that out of the blue. You had it on your mind already, didn’t you?”

“...It’s something that comes up when I’m feeling bad.” Lena felt stupid and exposed revealing that. “I don’t really think it’s true!”

Emily nodded and walked to her, sitting by her side on the bed. “Still, it made me stop, reflect on my actions so far and realize you were not without reason. I  _ am _ absolutely biased toward Amélie and I can see why you’d end up thinking I don’t care about you besides being friendly because somehow I can only materialize around you.”

“Sorry...” Lena mumbled once more, averting her eyes.

Emily picked her chin up and made her look back into her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. “Lena, I never did any of the things I do for Amélie for you because I never thought you needed them. And because teasing you is so much fun, I may have mentioned.”

“A couple of times.” She snickered. “But I get it, really - not the part of the teasing but why Amélie. She’s like those women you only see on tv, someone who everyone wants to be like, and… Well, I work in a coffee shop and got issues with my head. I’m just not as interesting.”

That made Emily give her a very disbelieving, amused look. “You’re so very wrong, you British dork. I’ll enumerate so it gets clear to you, as you don’t seem to have a clue. First of all:” She leaned back a bit and raised a finger. “you’re every bit as interesting as Amélie. You know why? Because you’re bright, fun and sweet as I’ve never seen before.” Then she raised another one. “Second: Yes, Amélie is magnificent and turns heads everywhere she goes, as much as she makes them straighten up at lightspeed with a glare, but you? You’re the one that people give a large smile to when you arrive. You’re the one they remember for the kindness and the good time they had with. You’re just so easy to love, Lena. I couldn’t ask for a better person to get bound with.”

“You… Really think so?” Lena looked a mix of confused and laid back, like she didn’t know what to do but the situation looked weird to her eyes. Emily got it. She never had this kind of serious talk with her - especially because it was about her at the moment.

“Yes I do. And there’s something else too…” Emily paused, looking down for a moment, blushing slightly. She had a embarrassed smile as she shook her head and looked up again, like a bolt, her eyes silver and determined. “You make me feel like I’m someone, Lena. Not just a muse or a spirit but… Someone.”

Lena blinked, surprised. “You are someone, luv! I mean, you’re this gorgeous ginger bird named Emily…”

“That’s not it. Or it is, I suppose, but not what I mean.” She laughed, embarrassed. “We muses are not… We… how do I even explain this…? Well, I told you before how we’re pretty fluid, right? That we adapt to the person we’re helping?”

Lena nodded quite eagerly, curious to see where it would lead.

“Because of that we, as a group, aren’t really individual. We help, and that’s what we are and who we’ll be if people need it. Whatever they need. We are faint and overridable… And then comes you, and you ask what I like, what I  _ want,  _ and while this is very confusing, it’s also unexpectedly good. For the first time I don’t shift around you - rather, you make me think about me, like a proper person.” Emily stopped and sighed, a smile making its way to her lips. “You spoil and tempt me with the joys of individuality and frankly? I love it. I should be repelled by the idea, but I really love it.”

Emily felt weird admitting that. It was like a dirty secret she was keeping, and she was well aware that Lena probably didn’t grasp what she meant fully. Still, it was good to say it - it wasn’t like she could hide something like that when she was in spirit, anyway. 

Well, a lot of her kind did already frown to her, so what was one more brick to the offense wall?

“Individuality is not a bad thing.” Lena replied, slowly. “Why do they think it is?”

“Because permanence is a thing for mortals. We got our personalities, but we don’t even have a defined form, Lena.” She replied softly. “If I had shown up at your room a day after I did, I might not have been a ginger, who knows if I’d even be a woman... But you made me like being so. You made me love the way you stare at this body when you think I’m not looking, or how you blush if I turn to face you and smile. It’s such a compliment from your part, and it makes me so happy that even without active interference that’s how I’ve been presenting myself now, consistently. You should see how some of the muses react to that.” She chuckled. “It’s… a big deal. And you did it. So yeah, don’t you ever think you’re not as good as Amélie. You’re different and wonderful, and I love you both.”

“So you know I stare, huh…” Lena scratched the back of her head, embarrassed.

“I know a bit more than that, considering the little show you gave in my honor the other day.” Emily tilted her head a bit, her tone more devious.

“Show? What show…?”

She snickered. “Oh you know… One you gave me after I faded away… I was drunk… We sang at a karaoke at the back of a restaurant…”

Oh. _ That  _ show.

Lena immediately turned red, purple, green, white and red again. “Y-you…?!”   
  
“Yes I did.” Her smile broadened, her eyes turning from blue and gold to blue with a warm brown center. “And as I said, you do tempt me with individuality, calling my name like  _ that _ , making me enjoy every moment.”

Honestly, Lena didn’t really know what to make of that, but she was reckless, shameless, terrible and leaned in to kiss Emily in a flash, taking her by surprise. Not for long, though: in a second the muse’s hands were at her hair and waist, pulling her closer, and she replied by trying to enlace Emily’s waist herself, but with her notion of space as messed up as it currently was, she missed badly and ended with a hand grabbing at nothing, then her thigh, then she slid her hand up and--

Emily pulled away to give Lena a playful, yet a bit disbelieving look. “First time and you’re already looking for the prize, darling?”   
  
“N-no, that was an accident!” She blushed, taking her hand out of the dangerously close place it was.

“Of course.” Emily chuckled, picking up her hand and putting it on her waist.

“I’m serious, it spasmed there!”

“Riiiight.” She silenced the woman by kissing her again, to which she answered with an approving little moan.

 

\--   
  


“Well, that’s a pretty long talk they’re having there.” Amélie commented as she picked up popcorn and passed the bowl to Winston, who was sitting on the floor rather than the couch.

“They had to apologize to each other, I’m sure Emily will want to know how these last days have been… I’m guessing things are going well.” He said, also picking some popcorn and passing the bowl to Ana, who was leaning on the wall near them. They weren’t really watching anything on tv, but the three of them acted as if they were hooked on a good movie, somehow.

Ana raised an eyebrow. “It’s Lena alone in her bedroom with a woman. They’re making out for sure.”

“Oh c’mon Ana, she’s not that thirsty.” Immediately Ana and Amélie gave him a skeptical look.

“You say that because you don’t live next to her.” The elder woman knocked lightly on the wall.

“And you’re male.” Amélie added.

“Well…”

The bedroom door opened and they saw Emily practically waltzing out of the place, carrying a box, while Lena went out slowly with a very frustrated expression.

“Emily,  _ please!” _ She cried out.

“Nope!”

“C’mon, it’s not that much…”

“You can’t even sit still for more than a minute before you start moving, do you really think you can fool me you’ll be able to control yourself?” Emily had a smug smile as she sat down in the couch by Amélie, winking for her.

“You can’t do that and leave me hanging, it’s  _ cruel! _ ” Lena pleaded from the other side of Amélie, with an exaggerated motion that was cut short by an spasm on her left arm, that she suppressed by holding it against the backrest.

“Not only I can but I did, darling. No biting more than you can chew.” Emily stared at Lena’s twitching arm and raised an eyebrow, like she was proving the point. Lena showed her the tongue.

“You know, it’d be lovely if you two filled us in what you’re arguing about.” Amélie used a soft, cynical tone.

“She wants to cut out my sweets!” Lena groaned, quite offended.

“You keep chocolate stashed in your wardrobe!” Emily replied, pointing at the box. “And the doctor did tell you to cut on sugar for a while, let me remind you!”

“You have  _ chocolate _ in your wardrobe…?” Amélie glared at Lena, then looked at Emily and the box. The muse nodded and finally opened the thing, revealing not only bars of the stuff but packs of gummy bears and, curiously, a bottle of peanut butter. Amélie scoffed. “You guilty little thing!”

“This is the emergency chocolate!” Lena protested.

“Well, I’d put a first-aid kit in an emergency box, but you know, priorities.” Ana laughed, getting closer to take a peek at the box. “Oh Winston, she has peanut butter here for you!”

“She does?” The gorilla practically jumped up, eyes shining, and went there to see for himself. “It’s my favorite brand, even!”

“Yeah big guy, couldn’t have it otherwise.” Lena sighed. “Well go on then, you spoilsports, why don’t you raid the box already, I know that’s what you want anyway.”

“Why thank you darling!” Emily giggled and readily opened a chocolate bar. “Thought you’d never say it.

Amélie, otherwise, gave Lena an inquisitive, more serious look. “Are you two okay, then?”

Lena bit her lip, smiled and nodded, a bit more cheerful than usual. Something undoubtedly happened, and Amélie would want to know all about it later.

“Oh, that reminds me of something-- Emily, did you know Amé is going with me to physio?”

Emily stopped midway to biting the chocolate. “She is?!”

“It felt right.” Amélie shrugged. Immediately, Emily was hugging her so eagerly they fell on Lena, who started a dramatic cry of how she was being crushed by the weight of oppressive gay love and they didn’t even bother including her in it.  They quickly corrected this fault, making a very happy Lena sandwich, and Ana half joked with Winston that they probably should give the three of them some privacy.   
  


\--

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Finally._
> 
> In Lena's defense, she really did not intend to take her hand... There. XD
> 
> Thanks Yossarian, Jrade and Yumiru for betareading. I wish I could give you more love <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a bit to come out, I'm sorry about that, it was because of an external situation. Also because of that, please do tell me if there's any typos or weird sentences, ok?
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

“I can’t believe I’m not going to see your cheeky face at work for who knows how long.” Hana protested, pouting, making Lena giggle.

“Well, if you want coffee spilled everywhere and slow service, I can give it a shot.”

They were drinking milkshakes in The High Noon, catching up with each other. Lena finally told Hana about her condition - it wasn’t something she could hide after she went to talk to her manager in the coffee shop and walked in slowly and shaky - explained what was going on, and Hana in turn told her about the funny things that happened in her absence and how she went out with the girl from the faceoff, Brigitte. They saw a movie, ate and talked, and she had to exert all her self control not to melt to a puddle throughout the series of events. By the time she finished the story, Lena was breathless from laughing.

“I think you’re getting yourself a girlfriend, luv!” Lena had an enthusiastic expression.

“Oh don’t say that, I might faint!” Hana put a hand on her forehead and faked falling, making her friend chuckle.

“What about your parents?”

Hana stared at her drink. “They don’t have a clue, of course.”

“Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m by your side. Even burying a corpse.” Lena winked.

She snorted. “Probably only in games.”

A flash of light outside caught their attention, followed by shouting and a bestial roar. Shortly after, McCree walked in fuming, passing directly by everyone and going to the back.

“Was that an…. _Arrow_ … on his cowboy hat?!” Hana’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my god, Hanzo really shot him!” Lena bursted into laughter again and ended up hitting her cup, making it fall off the counter. “Crap, it was almost full…!”

“Buy another one on me, darling.” Emily was sitting on the counter by Lena, a cocky look on her face.

“When did you get here?!” Hana shouted, surprised.

“Right about now.” She chuckled. “You were distracted by the charming fellow with an arrow on his hat. How have you been?”

“Pretty great, actually!” Hana's eyes lit up. “I was just telling Lena I went out with Brigitte!”

“Oh really?” Emily leaned towards her, and almost at the same time a waiter appeared to clean the mess and asked her to get off of the counter, which she did with a very convincing apology, though they knew she wasn’t sorry at all.

“Yeah, but first… You and Lena, huh?!” Hana wriggled her eyebrows and Lena giggled.

Emily crossed her arms and opened a smile a bit mischievous, a bit smartass. “What can I say, she kissed me and I couldn’t deny her this pleasure, in her state.”

“ _Oi!_ ”

“It was very good, though.” She laughed.

“I bet my ass it was, or you wouldn’t have been the one to pull and kiss me the other times, huh!”

“Then _I_ couldn’t deny myself the pleasure, darling.” Emily tilted her head a bit, giving her a bright, lovely smile, and Lena immediately lost the trail of the discussion. “Go on and order your drink, will you?”

Hana looked from one to the other and laughed. They were adorable. Well… Until Emily pulled Lena and they started kissing a bit too eagerly, then it was just embarrassing to watch.

“Tell me you didn’t like this.” This time, Lena had the smug smile as she whispered, breathless, to Emily.

“Don’t tempt me.” She poked her cheek. “I’m off to see Amé. Want to come?”

“Nah, Winston’s taking me to exams later.” Lena shrugged.

“Will you need us?” She looked a lot more concerned now.

“I’ll be fine. Go have fun!”

“That’s not what your heart is saying, you know.”

“That’s something I gotta do, it sucks, and I’ll live. Don’t stop your plans because of it, Winston will be there if I need.” Lena sighed. She had a resigned expression, but Emily felt how the idea picked at her wounds and didn’t want to leave her like that.

“You know it’s not a bother.”

“I do… But don’t make your life about me, Em. Go see your girl.” She managed to smile faintly.

That was what melted Emily’s heart away. Lena was always so mindful of what she wanted, regardless of her own desires… She brought her in for a short, tender kiss, and smiled afterwards. “If you need anything, call.”

“Aye, cap!” Lena saluted, giggling.

“...Damn snob unleashing his fucking _dragon_ on me, who does he think he is…!”

“Oh, it looks like McCree’s back.” Hana commented to herself, glad she had an opportunity to focus on a less sweet scene. “He looks so mad. Hey McCree, what happened?”

“HE SHOT MY HAT!” The man, passing on the other side of the counter, pointed at his hatless head. “That damn Shimada snob!”

With a shout like that, half the pub turned to look at him and see what was going on, and he fought the urge of crouching and disappearing behind the counter to prevent the world from seeing the apocalyptic sign that was McCree without his cowboy hat.

“You look good without it.” Lena suggested.

“That’s not the point, lass.” He sighed. “It’s the wounded pride of a cowboy!”

“You’re so dramatic.” Hana chuckled. “What are you going to do, storm into his restaurant and hang bull heads and wanted posters over those fancy golden dragons he keeps on the wall?”

Lena was about to tell her not to encourage the cowboy when he opened this enlightened smile with his eyes ablaze, and she knew the idea already took a hold on him. It would be useless to argue at that point.

“...Take pictures when you do it.” Lena shrugged, shaking her head with a condescending smile. “I’ll want to see the mess before Hanzo comes and completely kills you.”

The three engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about how McCree would break in and actually mess with the decoration, and it would take quite some time for them to notice that Emily was long gone.

 

\--  


There was a cold breeze coming through the door to the balcony. Amélie finished putting on a cardigan, buttoned it up with practiced ease and only then looked at Emily, eyebrow raised in curiosity. Emily, in turn, watched the whole thing with amusement: how swift and assertive were the movements of her fingers, how she had an air of bored disinterest and her black, beautiful hair cascaded down her shoulders… Before she knew it, her mind was wandering through what Amélie could do to her with those hands,  and she was brought back to reality only when she found golden eyes staring at her.

“I take it you like the view?” Amélie smirked.

“Very much, thank you.” Emily chuckled, but a little color came to her cheeks, and it almost wasn’t by embarrassment. “You’re just so astonishing I can’t really help it, to be honest.”

To that, Amélie reacted with a quite amused frown. “What an undisciplined muse you are.”

Emily was laying on Amélie’s bed, head on the end of it instead of the beginning, so she could see Amélie, who sat at the edge of the mattress, just right. In that relaxed position she also looked absolutely edible, but Amélie wouldn’t let her know that - she wouldn’t even admit it to herself, to begin with.

“I’m all for raw feeling, darling, and you’re a force of nature.” The muse smiled. “I don’t think discipline has much to do with it.”

Amélie felt something purring in the back of her mind, something that also made the temperature rise somehow. She hoped she could mask it under a cynical little scoff and French-made judgemental looks. “What about Lena’s raw feelings? You still haven’t told me what you two… Talked… About yesterday, although I have a pretty strong hunch.”

Emily’s expression changed completely from witty to soft, delighted even. “She apologized.”

“That much was clear from the start.” She gave her a look. “What else?”

“I also apologized.”

“And?”

“We made out wildly and if she hadn’t gotten dizzy because of all the movement she was making all of a sudden, I would’ve let her take me right there, with all of you in the living room.”

The scoff was involuntary on Amélie’s part, but it complemented very well her surprised expression. Emily couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly.

“I assumed you had kissed some, but this is something else entirely.”

“I know!” Emily giggled, then sighed and ended up smiling.

They stood a moment in silence, just looking at each other. Emily looked so happy, and that made Amélie warm inside, but at the same time there was something a bit sad permeating the feeling and she couldn’t really tell what it was. “She’s going to make you very happy.”

“Why do you say that like I’m going away and never returning?” Emily rolled to the side and quickly sat down beside her, an inquiring look piercing Amélie’s soul.The woman was foolish to think she wouldn’t notice her state; feelings were what she got nourishment from, in the first place.

“I… did?”

“Yes.” She put a hand on Amélie’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, silly. You are my priority regardless of what I may be doing with Lena.”

“Does she know that?”

“She was the one who told me to come see you when I asked if she needed company to the hospital today, so yeah, I guess she does. I’ll talk about it next time we see each other, though. It’s important.

“I feel like I’d be intruding in your relationship…”

“You know what? We’d better figure it out together, the three of us, so no one feels left out. Did you know Lena thought I didn’t care enough for her because of you?”

Amélie opened a faint smile. “Actually I did, _chérie._ And I told her to put herself together because you definitely liked her.”

Emily leaned closer, interested. “So you talk about me?”

“It would be strange if we didn’t, don’t you think? It’s not every day two girls share a beautiful disappearing ginger in common.”

“That much is true. How lucky both of you are!” She put a hand on her chest and wriggled her eyebrows in a fake sexy way, making Amélie roll her eyes. “Hey Amé… It was very nice, what you did to Lena.”

“Huh?” Amélie tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Going with her to the physiotherapy. It means a lot to her, knowing she’s not alone in this. She won’t say it but it’s pretty obvious.”

And, the part she was not mentioning, it also helped Amélie: she never had the drive to do it for herself, but going with Lena meant she was going to have that limp addressed, and probably strengthen her leg and walking in the process. As far as Emily was concerned, she might even get excited to go back to dancing…!

“She was so sad because she’d have to do it, it reminded me of myself and how things were so much more difficult before you two appeared. I wanted to do something nice for her. As a thank you, even.”

“I’m _so_ proud of you!” Emily enlaced Amélie’s waist and hugged her, leaning her head on her chest. “Do you see how far you’ve come? You’re getting out of the dark just like the first night stars, darling. You’re lighting up your own skies.”

Amélie chuckled. “You’re deep on the metaphors today, _chérie._ ” Not that she was complaining.

“I’m _always_ deep on the metaphors. I just don’t show it often. Which reminds me of something, actually!” She let go of Amélie and got up quickly, running to where her things were on a corner. Some moments later she came back with a small wooden box in her hands and extended it to Amélie with an excited smile, eyes an impressive shade of electric blue.

“You dared me this and between everything going on these last weeks, I forgot to actually bring it to you.”

Amélie gave her a curious look and picked the box with care. She opened it and scoffed, then smiled, then stared at the muse with disbelieving happiness. “You didn’t!”

“What?” She giggled. “I told you I’d arrive in here with a grand piano.”

She just didn’t say it would be the instrument, for in Amélie’s hands was a miniature black grand piano with a small _ballerina_ on top - a music box. She turned a little gear concealed behind it and it started playing a wonderful tune just like a lullaby, the little dancer spinning to the beat. It was a beautiful thing, and Amélie saw herself with tears pooling in her eyes as memories played in her mind, and suddenly she was a kid running through the corridors of the _Chateau Guillard_ again.

“That’s… Beautiful Emily. I… Wow. I can’t even describe it.”

Emily put a hand on her forearm, concern showing in her eyes. “Are you ok?”

She nodded. “It’s just… memories.” She opened a faint, distant smile. “When I was small, four or five years at best, I found a music box in my parents’ room. It was something out of a victorian novel, porcelain and golden ornaments… I made it play and the _ballerina_ spun around, like this one, and I, with childish glee, started trying to imitate the movements I saw my mother training so many times.” Amélie chuckled at the memory. “She walked in and watched, and when I finally noticed her I was so embarrassed - I remember thinking she’d scold me for messing with her things, but she smiled and told me I danced beautifully, like a true ballerina, and that was when I knew what I wanted to be…” she sighed, smiling. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”

The bittersweetness in Amélie’s words was strong, and it mixed with fondness and longing like an exquisite liquor on Emily’s lips. It was something she didn’t have often and wouldn’t intend to, because of the stunning intensity, but could admit tasted good. Memories often triggered that sort of complex feelings all tangled together, clashing or complementing each other, and, if not cautious, they could leave a person exhausted by all the energy spent on that. Knowing that, the muse watched for any reaction that could indicate a downward spiral on Amélie’s part.

She had her eyes locked on the music box. “I doubt mother is proud of me now.”

There it was. Her mood always sunk when she hit this subject, like the Titanic and the iceberg. Emily put her own hands over Amélies and gave her a part soft, part skeptical look.  “I highly doubt that. If she knew how much you improved these days, the things you’ve done…”

“I’m not her perfect ballet dancer anymore. I’m a shame.”

“You’re definitely _not._ ” The harsh way she said the last words made Amélie look at her. There was no reprehension on those silver eyes, only a flaring resolve. “It takes a lot more courage to get up after a fall than to never fall at all. Those who never fell fear it, while those who have, learn from it. I mean, look at Lena: how many times has she been hit hard by life and got up again, despite the odds? You’re like that, now. You’re getting up, and anyone who think you’re a shame because of it is a fool and I’ll personally punch them in the guts for it.”

“You’re so very kind, _chérie,_ but you know it’s true, at least in my family.”

“I stand by what I just said. They shame you, I’ll punch them all in the guts and bring you to the faraway land of Britain, which I heard, is a capital offense in France. I’ll even introduce you to a cheeky and adorable British dork who loves chips, to the horror of all the traditional families and to complete the heresy.”

Amélie snickered. “Oh, the disgrace. How will I live with that, I wonder? I’d better jump off a bridge.”

Emily smiled, as cocky as ever, but Amélie felt her hands tremble slightly over hers. “What about jumping into my arms? It’s a better idea.”

She scoffed. “You’re absorbing Lena’s bad pick up lines power.” Then she chuckled and put the music box aside on the table, only then going to Emily’s embrace.

“They’re awfully effective, though.” Emily wriggled her eyebrows as she held on Amélie’s waist, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you have something in mind?” She hummed.

Emily jerked her head a bit, eyes flashing to a stronger golden inside the blue, and the radio started playing a slow tune in response. “Would you slow dance with me, _mademoiselle_?”

“We _really_ have to talk to Lena about this.” Amélie enlaced her neck, drawing a hum of approval from the ginger.

“As soon as we finish if you want.”

“Tomorrow morning. It's better in person.” She replied. Emily nodded.

They spun around like lovers in a ballroom, getting comfort on each other’s touch, reveling in the slow movement, but never quite reaching out for more than that or a conclusion. It was enough - specially because one of them wasn’t really supposed to be there, by the laws of nature.  


\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yumiru and Yossarian! <3


	17. Chapter 17

Lena was just finishing getting dressed after a long warm bath when Ana knocked on the door.   
  
“Come in!” She was fighting to pull a hoodie over her head when she kept missing the head hole because her hands, holding the piece, were assholes that couldn’t stay still.

Ana walked in and frowned. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I can do it!” A muffled voice came from inside the hoodie.

It took her at least five minutes more to finally dress the thing properly. It didn’t help that she had just awaken, she was hungry and Winston didn’t come back with the groceries yet.

“Done.” Lena sighed, weary. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you a bit.” Ana sat by her side on the bed unceremoniously.

“What did I do this time?” She frowned. “I’m taking the medicine and trying to do the exercises!”

“I know.” Ana opened a comprehensive smile. “I’m not here to scold you today.”

“So… what are you here for? Did I forget to pay the rent?” 

That made Ana laugh.

“Not this time, no. I just wanted to let you know I’m very proud of you, Lena.”

Whatever she was expecting, that wasn’t it. Lena’s eyes got wide as plates for a moment and she tilted her head to a side, just like a confused puppy. “Me? Why? I mean, I appreciate it, of course, it’s just - I did a hell of a mistake, right?”

“Yes, but you’re dealing with it in a mature way, apologized to everyone you had to and you’re taking care of yourself.” Ana smiled. “I was afraid you’d take this much worse. You could’ve had a major breakdown, but a week later you’re already back to your regular self, despite everything.”

“Well I didn’t do it alone.” She shrugged, an embarrassed smile on the corner of her lips. “You’re here, Winston’s here, the girls… You didn’t let me sulk on a corner and be miserable like I wanted, so...”

“You still could’ve. That’s why you disappeared that time, I remember your words: _ ‘they won’t have to deal with a broken nuisance like me _ .’” Ana tried to imitate Lena’s tone and accent, which resulted in an incredulous grimace from Lena’s part.

“Oi! I don’t talk like that!”

“You’re painfully British, child.” Ana gave her an amused look.

“I-- ugh!” She crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know people worldwide think it’s a very sexy accent, okay?!”

“Regardless, you’re here and you didn’t run away this time.”

That was true, but Lena could argue the circumstances were completely different: that time she saw the life she battled and built for herself crumbling to dust before her eyes because of a condition she acquired trying to do something good, and now she just went back on a lot of her progress with said condition because she did something stupid. There was also the fact that her friends were mostly fellow military people and Winston was away that time, while now she had everyone there to remind her she was loved. 

What Lena couldn’t see was that the fact that she could endure such a hard blow and every single obstacle before it was a reason for celebrating, regardless of the circumstances.

“I suppose…”

“Not only that, but in this short span of time we’ve known each other you put your life together, found a job, kept your apartment relatively habitable… “

“You’re aware that most of my furniture is from flea markets, right…?” Lena scratched the back of her neck, completely embarrassed. “And that Winston gave me the refrigerator and the washing machine?”

Ana stopped and raised an eyebrow. Looked the young woman dead in the eyes and, finally, slapped her shoulder hard.

“Ow! What was that for?!” Lena recoiled, holding the area.   
  
“Stop diminishing yourself, you fool!”

“S-sorry?”

Ana rolled her eyes and brought her in for a quite aggressive hug. “I’m here trying to tell you I consider you a daughter and you’re apologizing, why am I not surprised.”

Lena’s head emerged from the chaotical embrace. “You do? Oh thank you so much, Ana! That means so much to me!”

“Heh, of course it does, everybody wants a mom like me.”

“I could argue with that, you know, but let’s not spoil the moment.” With that, she went back to fully enjoying the contact, and Ana thought with herself that it was a good thing Lena was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. She suffered enough already, and deserved the best things life had to offer her. “I’d really love if you were my mother, Ana…”

The elder woman didn’t answer that. Instead she ran fingers through Lena’s hair and held her tighter with the other hand. It wasn’t a good moment to discuss the mistakes of her biological family, and she wasn’t even comfortable with doing so.

The sound of the door opening made its way to their ears, and Lena tilted her head up lazily in response.”Finally, I’m starving!” Then she stretched and got up, groaning and almost falling because she didn’t get used to doing it slowly yet.

Ana helped her and when they got to the living room, Winston had just got in and was talking to an enthusiastic black man with long dreads and a luminous smile.

Lena gasped. “Lúcio!”

He turned to face her and his smile only broadened. “ _E aí, menina Tracer!_ ”

“You bloody wanker--” She tried to run and tackle him, but Ana grabbed her by the shirt before she could do anything. Running was a terrible idea. “You said you were going to come next week, it’s been months!”

“I know, I know! Sorry! Stuff happened in our community and I was suddenly too busy with fighting evil businessmen that I just forgot to tell you!” He laughed. “I mean, how crazy is that?!”

“Wait, what?”

Winston put a hand on Lúcio’s shoulder. “You can tell her all about it over breakfast, what do you think?”

“That is a great idea!” Lena tried to run to the kitchen, but once again, Ana held her by the shirt.    
  
“Does your every reaction involve running somewhere?” She frowned. The girl only giggled as a response.   
  


\--   
  


“...They actually set a favela on fire! Can you believe these assholes?!” Lúcio took an angry bite at his toast, breaking the remaining part in two.

“Tsk. corporations harbor the worst kind of criminals, the ones who hide above the law.” Ana took a sip from her cup. “Excellent tea, Lena.”

“Thanks! See, I told Amé the French do it far too weak…”

“You know she’ll probably go on a two-hour-discourse about how unhealthy and vile British cuisine is next time you tell her that, right?”

“Emily!”

“What  _ the hell _ are you?!”

Everyone stopped and stared as Lúcio jumped from his chair, completely freaking out at the sight of Emily.

“...Excuse me?” She tilted her head, doing her best not to laugh at his expression.

Lena shook her head “Lúcio, that’s no way to--”   
  
“Why are you burning?!” he continued, quite high pitched. “W-what’s going on?!”

“ _ What? _ ” Lena turned to Emily.

She merely raised her eyebrows, surprised, and tried to put her hands in pockets, except she was wearing a dress. “So you can see that? Huh. Name’s Emily, I’m doing pretty good, thanks for asking, and I’m a muse in human form, that’s the burning you’re seeing, darling. Any other questions?”

He looked at everyone there. “Many!”

“I got one too, let me go first!” Lena interjected “You really wait for just the right moment to appear, don’t you?”

The muse chuckled. “Why are you even asking, wouldn’t you?”

“Fair enough.”

Ana cleared her throat. “Now if you care to elucidate our Brazilian friend here…”

They proceeded to fill Lúcio in the last months up to the point Winston had told him, that was basically about Lena’s accident and the condition. His previous alarm quickly turned to fascination towards Emily, and he informed them that he could see spirits, but in a different way than Ana: it was much more associated with colors and sounds, like a sort of synesthesia, so of course he was very confused by a woman who appeared out of nowhere with all her colors shifting and burning like her.

Emily loved that description, by the way. The woman with the shifting colors.

Both her and Lúcio then explained, in a weird unison that made them giggle: people tended to be consistent with their auras, and if they shifted, it was usually a slow process. 

“Yours is a neon blue, a bit diffuse.” Emily told Lena, then pointed at Ana. “Yours is a light yellow, kinda beige, reminds me of sand blown by the wind.” 

“Mine is green and Winston’s white!” Lúcio completed. “Man, crazy stuff has been happening all around, hasn’t it? I thought I’d arrive here with this ground-shaking story to tell and it turns out you have an even crazier one going on, huh?”

“Blame the ginger.” Lena replied, taking a bite of her bacon and eggs.

“Blame the French.” The ginger in question chuckled, now sitting on Lena’s lap because - and only because, of course - there were only four chairs in the kitchen and one was holding the microwave. “Anyway Lúcio, tell me more about you! I mean, if no one else will actually introduce us…”

“Oh, my bad!” He scratched his nose. “Uh… I’m a Brazilian DJ, social activist and uh… Shaman, kinda? I do some stuff, but nothing as fancy as Ana!” He was a bit embarrassed, if his expression was anything to go by.

“Remember when I told you you were an oddity magnet…” Winston whispered to Lena.   
  
“Turns out I’m an oddity too, big guy!” She giggled, poking him with her elbow.

Ana put her cup on the table and gave Lúcio a look. “You’re good, child. I saw you working last time.”

“Why didn’t I know that, by the way?” Lena looked from one to the other. “Why am I always the last to know?!”

“Because it might’ve freaked you out? I mean, you were normal, I don’t go out telling this to the winds…” He scratched his nose again.   
  
“And I’m not normal now?” Everybody looked at her - or, better yet, at who was sitting on her lap.   
  
“Wanting to bang a muse apparently makes you special, darling.” Emily patted her head.

“Oh fuck you Emily!”

“Exactly!” She laughed.

“I can’t!” She cried out, completely frustrated. “Bloody hell, someone kill me please!”

Lúcio turned to Ana for a little bit of help. “What’s going on now? I feel like I lost it.”   
  
“Lena is not allowed to have sex until further notice. We made sure to ask the doctors about it.” She showed him a  little smirk. “At least I’ll sleep well for some time.” 

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Oh my god she’s going nuts in no time!”

“You humans have such a weird fixation with sex I’ll never understand.” Winston commented, raising an eyebrow and spreading peanut butter on his toast. “Anyway, we have half an hour to get ready to go to physio, Lena. You better eat.”

“Aaaaw do I have to go? Lúcio just got here, we have so much to catch up to…!”

“Yes you do, he’ll be around later.” The gorilla replied.   
  
“And Amé’s probably on her way here.” Emily added, leaning on Lena’s chest and passing an arm behind her shoulders. “Besides, I’m going with you there today.”

“You are? Oh  _ no, _ I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of you again!”

Lena looked genuinely concerned about that and it made Emily pause for a moment to consider this new information. “You think I’m going to make fun of you?”

“No, it’s just... “ She sighed. “It’s stupid, I don’t like to show it.”

Without a word the muse got up, grabbed Lena’s hands and pulled her up too.

“Put your feet over mine.”

“Uh… ok?” Lena frowned.

That done, they started waltzing slowly, Emily leading.

“Tell me something, darling. Are you humans born knowing how to walk?” She asked softly.   
  
“No, but--”   
  
“And dancing? Can you dance right off the bat?”

“Of course not--”

“Can you walk straight when you’re drunk?”   
  
“Emily…”   
  
“Tell me, silly,  can you walk straight after a lot of pints?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Then why do you think it’s stupid not being able to move properly when your brain is still confused?”   
  
“Because… I don’t know.” Lena made a grimace.

“Take it as training. Baby steps until you’re the one leading the waltz.” Emily then spun her slowly, scratching the back of her neck and letting go, leaving Lena grunting something about it not being easy - and the others couldn’t discern if she was talking about movement or resisting the ever present teasing Emily inflicted on her. Either way, she excused herself to go get ready, and the muse happily followed her because she wouldn’t pass the opportunity to comment on her semi nakedness.   
  


\--

 

There were more reasons besides the watching kink for Emily to go with Lena to her bedroom. As she undressed, the muse had a clear view of where she had the most twitches and turns, and if there was specific sorts of movements that triggered the dysfunctional responses. Knowing that beforehand could be of aid if she intended to help with the physiotherapy as she could.

Lena also had such a beautiful body, and it was practically Emily’s duty to the world to remind her of that as she shamelessly stared at her naked legs. It would’ve been all good if Lena just took the compliments, but she’d start showcasing herself to get more, and eventually compliments led to touch and touch led to further caressess… And suddenly Emily had to phase out, half naked herself, so they wouldn’t end up in bed.

Needless to say, it took a while for them to meet Amélie in the cab outside.

As they entered the car and sat down, apologizing profusely, giggling and blaming one another for being late, Amélie noticed the fading bite marks in Lena’s neck and understood everything. “Having fun, were you?” She purred.

Lena choked. Emily laughed, patting her on the back. “I was  _ just _ saying how beautiful she was, and she decided to have  _ ideas. _ ”

“Oh  I had ideas? You were the one who said you’d love to bite my thighs!”   
  
“Doesn’t mean I would at the moment, darling.” Emily smirked.

“Yeah, but the mental image...!”

The three of them paused, considering it. 

The cab driver saw the opportunity and cleared his throat. “Ma’ams, where are we headed?”

“Oh right!” Emily was the one to answer. “Sorry we kept you waiting.”

She proceeded to inform him the address to the clinic. While she was distracted with that, Amélie tilted her head towards Lena. “It was a lovely image indeed.”

Immediately her ears burnt and she was sure she looked like a tomato outside. Was Amélie talking about Lena being bitten by Emily, herself being bitten by Emily or herself biting Lena? She kinda wanted to ask because it could be a bit creepy but also hot. Definitely hot. Wait, did that mean she’d like to watch them...?!

Emily brought Lena back to the real world before she could develop further a threesome in her mind. “So. Now that the three of us are here, I guess we could talk about that thing?”

The threesome went back to her mind with full force.

“The one we discussed yesterday,  _ chérie?” _ Amélie asked and Emily nodded. “Go on.”

“What are you two talking about…?” Lena finally asked, cautious, without looking at any of them. She doubted she could hide her thoughts if they crossed eyes, close as the trio were.   
  
“Nothing that serious, don’t worry.” Emily was about to continue when she seemingly picked something up out of thin air, just like a radio, and she opened an evil grin. “Why are you getting so excited, Lena…?”

_ Fuck _ . She could try to hide her thoughts, but her emotions were always laid bare to the muse, how could she forget?!

“It's your fault, you keep dancing around the subject, I got an active imagination and we were doing those things in my room, god, I’m fucking horny already and then Amé--” Lena started spilling words incredibly fast and blushing wildly, so much that Emily had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her from talking.

“Breathe, darling.” She chuckled. “Talk slower, you’re going to choke and die like that.”

Lena pushed her hand aside. “Stop torturing me and say what you want already!”

“As you know very well,  _ chérie _ , Emily and I are very close.” Amélie was the one who started, an amused smile on her face. “And we were concerned about what you might think of some of our behaviors around each other now that you’re together.”

A look of enlightenment crossed Lena’s face as she muttered an “aaaaaah!” to herself. So that was it? It was easy, then.

“You mean how you’re two pretty birds smitten with each other all the time?” Lena raised an eyebrow, smiling at their resulting surprised expressions. “I’d have to be blind not to see that, loves. Don’t worry, as long as it doesn’t feel I’m like, the spare piece, you can be gay for each other as much as you like.”

“Never a spare, Lena.” Emily opened a genuinely happy grin. “A weirdly complimentary one.”

She kissed her cheek, drawing out a tiny smile.

“The moment you feel uncomfortable by anything you tell us, okay?” Amélie added. “I mean it. Don’t hurt yourself for our sake.” And she kissed her other cheek.

Although Lena was the one who got to the party quite late, she thought she was very lucky that those two were so mindful of her well-being, even as they were so obviously in love it was almost cringy that they didn’t do anything about it. There was something still nagging in the back of her mind, though, and she prayed Emily wouldn’t notice: could someone who loved a woman so much as Emily did, love someone else as plentifully? Could she be somehow mirroring Lena because of the love she felt, rather than listening to her own feelings for her? She was always reading her emotion, after all, who knew if she didn’t confuse it up?

But… There were also the things she said to Lena in her room. How she made her feel like a person. How she made her happy. That didn’t feel like a lie on her part…

The distress in Lena’s head only increased as she got absorbed with her own mental discussion. She could’ve shoved the feeling in front of Emily and it would have the same effect, so clear it became to the muse. Emily wished she’d talk about it, she was willing to do things to clear any doubts from her dorky girlfriend’s mind, but she had to know what they were about first. Pressuring her wouldn’t take them nowhere, though. So what could she do?

Emily brought Lena gently towards her, making she lean on her chest, and started playing with her hair. It was so unruly and soft. “I love you a lot, you know.” she mumbled.

“I love you too.”  Lena sighed.

Amélie averted her eyes from them, as it was quickly becoming very personal. She felt her heart tighten a bit, though - not exactly jealous, but she had a clear notion for once that she wanted to be in that embrace with them, maybe rub circles on Lena’s back or hold her hand… 

She wasn’t, though.

 

\--   
  


Physiotherapy was like they expected: again a lot of movements they couldn’t really execute and a lot of frustration on Amélie’s and Lena’s part. The doctor patiently told them that everytime they tried to make the movements they improved very subtly, and there would come a time they’d be able to move well again.

Emily, sat quietly in a corner and took mental notes of the exercises the doctor had them make and made her own connections to dance exercises. Her heart practically ached for her to go and help with it. She knew her girls would relax so much more if she was there near them, holding them…

In times like that she had to remind herself she was a muse, not a human, and her job was not to do things, but to facilitate them. Being so, she sat quietly and sent her suggestions to the man in charge in the form of insight. Small things, really: what to talk about, comments about interests, compliments, jokes… By the time the trio had to leave Lena was even laughing, in contrast to her very annoyed expression from the beginning, and Amélie was talking about her training routines in Paris to see if there was anything applicable there.

  
That was when Emily left them. She said her goodbyes and disappeared as soon as they turned to look at the incoming taxi, promising she’d be back soon.  Amélie and Lena were certainly exhausted, but she was far more than them, having kept a direct link with someone for a whole hour while in human form. She had no idea it would be so demanding to do something trivial for her while in spirit.

Being the case, the three of them went straight to rest when they got “home”. Lena passed out on the couch right as she entered, Amélie had strength (or maybe she was snob enough) to take a bath and go to bed, and Emily found people waiting for her as she arrived. She had to consciously retain herself from giving them no fucks and leaving, because one, it wouldn’t do much to dissuade them and two, would possibly piss them off more, so she sighed heavily and sat in Angela’s living room with them to have an invisible, unhearable and certainly unpleasant chat.   
  


\--   
  


Almost a week passed, and the only signal they had of Emily was a post-it affixed on Lena’s forehead with the exact words written on it:  _ “It seems like I’m grounded for some days. Love you, dork. I wish I’d see you sooner.” _

Lena woke up very annoyed because “ _ damn, again?” _ , but it turned to concern as soon as she read the words. She talked to Amélie, Ana, Lúcio and Winston, and none of them had an idea of what that could be about, as they didn’t know much more about muses than what Emily told them herself. They were a really subtle kind of spirit. Something they could tell Lena, though, was that if it really was something serious she probably wouldn’t leave a note with that annoyed, possibly sarcastic tone; it would’ve been something heavier… And it probably wouldn’t be hanging on her forehead, too. It eventually calmed Lena enough she could relax and stop shaking involuntarily. Bloody mental glitches, that was embarrassing.

Still, it brought Amélie closer, trying to comfort her through those episodes with her velvety voice, and gave her the opportunity to hang out more with Winston and Lúcio. The DJ finally told her he came to London by request of a decently known singer, to support him on some gigs around Europe for the next months. He did tell her his name, but she almost immediately forgot it, excited with the prospect of her friend getting famous outside his country. Lúcio was in her house by the morning almost everyday, bringing some different Brazilian food for them to try in the breakfast.

Physiotherapy sessions kept going, and slowly but surely, there was some positive change in Lena and Amélie overtime. After the session with Emily there the doctor looked more confident to do his job, and the girls more fond of him, which helped immensely: Lena could almost draw again without it looking like a sonar transcription, and the odds of her losing control of a major limb because of violent spasms diminished a bit; Amélie, although she didn’t notice it, could walk and stand up for longer periods of time, even though the limp was still pretty much unchanged. It wasn’t a lot, but they’d been doing that for just a month, max - patience was paramount in that case.

Winston, in the meantime, informed Lena he was discussing with his teammates in the US about working remotely from London, at least for some time. He wanted to be near her, and she didn’t really try to dissuade him from the idea, even though it left her feeling guilty for some time after. The gorilla always knew how to take care of himself - and of people around him, for that matter - and she was sure he’d be okay no matter what.

Ana kept doing her thing and not informing anyone about it, so it remained a mystery. At least she wasn’t driving Fareeha crazy, which was a good signal… Or the sign of a shitstorm, but no one wanted to think about this possibility.

On the third day of the second week, Amélie saw herself sitting on the balcony of her room, taking a sip of wine as her mind flew and a wave of sadness engulfed her. A couple of hours before she received a call from her family in Annecy, and it made her realize how much she missed them and at the same time, how she didn’t in some aspects.

It was the second time they really talked since Amélie went to Angela’s house in London. She’d let the doctor handle it everytime they called, mostly because she couldn’t bear to talk to them and not feel extremely guilty for all they did for someone clearly hopeless as she was. But that was then, and things had improved a lot since. Amélie felt like she could do it this time, which proved to be true, but oh, she didn’t need to be reminded of how much her mother was difficult to deal with.

After spending time with people that encouraged her plenty and didn’t care for the little slips along the way,  focusing on the victories, it was very clear to Amélie how much her mother was tiring with her fixation with perfection and ballet. She meant well, but she was never satisfied: Amélie told her she was going to therapy and had recently started physiotherapy again, and her reaction was to praise her for two seconds and then ask when she’d be fully recovered, so she’d go back home; She told her about the women who had been helping her a lot through the tough times, and mentioned one of them was a dancer - only to hear inquiries about if she danced for the Royal Opera House, when Amélie was planning to start dancing again, and that maybe this woman could help her get the connections she needed to restart her career as best as she could, even if not on the top tiers.

Amélie wasn’t planning on that, and she didn’t know if Emily as a ballet dancer. Actually, she didn’t really see her dance at all yet, which was kind of weird, considering she was the muse... Regardless, she told her mother that she wouldn’t go into that topic because she’d rather put herself together fully before anything, and she wouldn’t rush that with a deadline.

Talking with her father was way more pleasant. Amélie could hear in his voice how excited he was with her news, and although he did ask about what she intended to do and when she’d be coming back home, he also said he was very happy she was adapting well to the different country and found friends.

Well, “ _ found friends” _ was certainly a way to put it…

After her parents told her how much they missed her, that they should visit and bring gifts, that they’d love to meet with Angela too, Amélie said her goodbyes and went to the balcony of her room with a bottle of wine.

“Oh Gerárd…” She whispered, absent. “I’m still so far away from where I should be. I disappoint them.”

They reminded her of that. Amélie had been focused in other things, like helping Lena, feeling better, enjoying where she was, that she forgot about the huge distance she was yet to walk. Just looking at it made her tired. Then there were the expectations, the pride, her own clouded opinions on the matter… It added an extra layer of weight to what she had been ditching from her shoulders slowly along the way.

 

She was such a failure.

 

Or… Maybe she wasn’t. She was trying. It was really difficult, but she was trying. Emily, Lena, Angela and her psychologist all thought that was really something to be proud of, not ashamed. Were they wrong? Was she wrong about feeling better for advancing, although she still wasn’t there? She didn’t know… But the way things were going was making her happier. Lena’s and Emily’s fault, probably. 

Such a duo, they were… Finally together, after Lena being so oblivious it hurt. It made Amélie happy to see them happy, but it also squeezed her heart a bit, and she really couldn’t point what she was feeling exactly. There was a bit of sadness, of happiness, jealousy even, a desire to be with them and to give them privacy, but what if they slowly stopped giving her care and attention so much to focus on themselves more, like a regular couple? Her sense of normalcy told her she shouldn’t be in the middle of their thing so much… And she could survive that, of course… But it was just so good to have them around, being silly, lovely, bright, caring - and to hear Lena’s adorable laugh, Emily and her words of praise that always seemed to render her breathless somehow, even when she could fake they didn’t…!

“I don’t want them to leave me… Like you had to do.”

Amélie’s mind floated towards her time with the dashing man who had been her fiancé, and a bittersweetness filled her instead of the usual sadness. She noticed, maybe for the first time, she wasn’t mourning what she missed, but admiring the wonderful times she lived: all the laughing, the witty play, the softness and intimacy they shared, one the world for the other. She loved so much his cynical charm… He’d really like Emily, actually, because both of them were these dubious buffoons who liked to wrap people around their fingers. Difference was that she was way more blunt and intense about her general intentions - where he’d been water she was fire, in a manner of speaking.

Then Amélie started chuckling alone, because she realized he’d probably tell her to kiss the girl already. And she’d do it, because she liked her, no - God, she was stupid! - she loved her! Just like Emily told her with small gestures time and time again.

But what about Lena?   
  
_ It was easy _ , her mind said.  _ Bring her along. _ And she noticed that kissing those small lips and cuddling with the sweet, offendingly British woman wasn’t a bad idea at all. Weren’t the three of them doing a toned down version of that stuff already, anyway?

God, they’d never agree to that. Still, the images kept flowing freely in Amélie’s mind, and she was getting fonder of them with every new one…

When Emily returned. They’d talk about it, then.   
  


\--

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Yossarian, Jrade and Yumiru <3


	18. Chapter 18

A wave of applause erupted from the crowd in the theater as the curtains closed. The modern dance performance had been nothing but spectacular, and people applauded until the dancers came back to the stage, now wearing common clothes, and took a bow for the audience. They looked exhausted and proud, a mark of work well done.

Above them, sitting on two of the few empty VIP seats, were two muses. One of them was certainly proud of the people on the stage - the other was just accompanying her, but also impressed with the whole thing.

“Isn’t it refreshing how despite it being extensively rehearsed, it will never be the same?” Emily asked, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“They were good, undoubtedly, but to be honest I can’t say I understood most of it.” The muse beside her replied, her brow furrowing as she kept looking at the stage. She was a strong black woman with large shoulders and hair tied back, and she could be intimidating if she desired so.

“Well, that’s no shame. You’re Euterpe, after all.” Emily gave her an understanding look. “By the way, why did they assign you to be my babysitter? I thought they’d at least pick one of ours, not to bore you to death…”   
  
The woman turned to her, a tiny smile on her face. “I volunteered. I’m an Erato, by the way, not an Euterpe.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, they said you were Euterpe and I just assumed-- I should’ve asked!”

Emily looked genuinely concerned. Erato put a hand on her shoulder and chuckled. “It’s okay. You were still very flared up from punching the last  _ babysitter _ , as you called it.”

The disgust was clear on Emily’s face with the mention. “Ugh, the bastard. He had the gall to call my girls,  _ my girls, _ a waste of time! Pro tip: If a person got through all the trouble of getting a physical form to be with some specific people, you don’t just insult them to this person’s face.”

“That’s solid advice.”

“Sure is. But tell me… Why did you volunteer? It strikes me as odd that a muse of love poetry, of all things...”

The Erato looked away, to the last of the people leaving their seats below. She took a moment to answer. “...I was curious about you. I mean, you upset a lot of people to get to the ears of the other houses and that’s a feat in itself, but upsetting them because you got a permit to go physical and then used it to enrapture some humans…!”

Oh. So that was what they were saying about her out there.

“Enrapture? Are they taking me for what, a succubus?” She scoffed. “I love them. I genuinely love those women, it wasn’t planned, and I’m fucking doing my job! Or do they see Amélie wandering around as sad as she was before?!” 

The look on her face suggested Emily was ready to punch some more faces, and Erato’s dark eyes glimmered with excitement, a brighter, yellow-greenish color. Emily stopped and raised an eyebrow at that.

“Why the amusement?”

“It’s just how I thought! I mean, your higher muse wouldn’t have allowed you to go if there wasn’t a strong reason, and the affection practically radiates from you in waves…!” The Erato had a dreamy undertone to her voice.

Emily finally understood why she was there after all: she was a muse of love poetry who heard of this offending muse, a misfit who went to the physical plane and supposedly seduced some women. It wasn’t too big a stretch to imagine a romance with said humans, and - BAM! - it could make such a juicy, exquisite story...

“Well, you’d understand if you actually knew how things went.” Emily stretched her arms, getting up. “I’d do anything for them.”

“You could tell me.”   
  
_ Of course you want me to tell you,  _ she thought. “Only if you go and tell people the fucking true story. Are you up for it?”

Erato got up too. “Of course I am.”

“Swear by the Styx.”

She straightened herself. “I solemnly swear by the river Styx that I’ll only tell what I hear and discuss with you, but in a more poetic language, of course.”

“Deal.”

A flash of green light sparkled between them, indicating the deal was written and upheld by higher forces, and terrible punishment awaited the Erato if she broke it. 

Emily finally relaxed. What a weird turn of events, that was. She was still grounded like a child in her home plane (punching the disgusting guy who was watching her first probably helped with that, if she was being honest) but at least now she had something interesting, possibly good to do.

“Well, first things first, then.” Emily opened a soft smile and offered a hand. “Name’s Emily, nice to meet you.

 

\--   
  


An annoying drizzle came and went over London throughout the day, to no one’s surprise. Lúcio and Lena were walking to the studio where he was to meet with the singer who invited him to play in England, and he tried to cheer Lena up. From what she told him, Akande Ogundimu’s (yeah, that one, the big name in entertainment business! Lúcio was seriously impressed, to be honest) secretary called her, saying he’d be interested in commissioning her work for a series of murals. She had to tell the woman she suffered an accident and was currently not in her prime for the arts, but was doing whatever she could to get back in shape as soon as possible. The secretary said she’d pass the information to her boss - and there went Lena’s chance down the drain, she was pretty sure.

“At least Hana’s still doing good, getting all sorts of jobs after the streamers face-off.” Lena kicked a pebble. Everything in her body language screamed defeat: the low shoulders, downhearted tone and even the way she walked.

“Aw Lena, it’s not so bad… He might still call you! You’re a bit hindered but not dead, give him a call when you’re good and let him know you’re back, good things might come!” Lúcio messed with her hair, even though he was a tiny bit smaller. She didn’t protest like she’d usually do, just gave him a tired look.

“Yeah, like he won’t have a hundred new options by then. God, I can’t let Winston start paying my bills again. He already does so much!”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, you’re recovering very well.  Specially with those pretty women all over you, huh…!” He poked her with his elbow. “Which reminds me - no sign of Emily yet?”

“No… I hope she’s okay. Did you see anything strange these days, by the way?”

“I’m always seeing strange stuff” Lúcio snickered. “But no, nothing related to her. I did see some other muses around, now that I know what to look for! Tried talking to them but they’re a shy kind, I think?”

“I guess it’s not everyday they see a human trying contact. They could’ve thought it was a sort of trap.”

He scoffed. “What? Hey, I’m the most friendly guy you’ll ever meet! I don’t even use memes for evil, and you know that’s a Brazilian national sport!”

Lena giggled. “I wonder how much Hana would corrupt you if you ever knew each other.”

“Well, you could introduce us and find out.” He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I suppose I could call her and Brigitte to that bar you said you’re going to take us Friday.”

“Please do! It’ll be the place with the most beautiful women per meter in the city!” He laughed.

“I can’t even argue with you there, friend.” She joined him. 

Basically they were two silly friends laughing and walking on the street - until Lena tripped on the sidewalk and fell into the small alley to the right. It was dotted with trash the wind and people probably brought there: plastic cups, empty packages, paper, a pile of remains of cardboard boxes… She knocked off some of those as she fell, and a faint screeching sound came from them. 

Lena groaned out loud. “ _ Bloody hell,  _ that was all I--” 

“Shhhh! What was that sound?!” Lúcio cut her, searching the alley with his eyes and ears ready, his brow creasing with a deep focus.

“What sound?” In her attempt to get up, she ended up hitting the boxes again as some dizziness fell upon her, but this time she heard the noise too.

“It’s an animal!” Lúcio was crouching and opening the boxes in a second, tossing the empty ones aside, and Lena slowly got down to help him too.

Not long after they came upon a small one that was sealed with tape, and started ripping it furiously as they heard faint meows coming from it. When they opened it enough something moved inside and a gray kitty head came out of it, gasping for air, trying to pull itself out frantically. 

“Oh my god, look at you, poor thing!” Lena grabbed at one edge of the hole, trying to open it further, while Lúcio grabbed at the other one. They ripped the cardboard and the kitten stumbled out of it, trying to run, but it was too small and clumsy, easily caught by Lúcio.

“Who would’ve… Wait. It doesn’t have the front legs!”

“What?” 

Lena got closer to take a look, and in fact the kitty had only two stubs where it’s legs should’ve been. It also looked very young and female. 

To leave a young and defenseless kitty trapped on a box like that…! Lena put a hand over her mouth, in a mix of surprise and anger. “They left you here to die because you’re different, the monsters…! Lúcio we gotta take her to the vet! Who knows how long she’s been here?!”

“You’re the local, you tell me where there’s a vet!” he patted the kitty softly. “Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you”   
  
“Give her to me, I’ll put her in my jacket, it’s got inside pockets!”   
  
So Lúcio did, and they started their search for a vet who would accept a stray kitten like that.   
  


\--   
  


It was remarkable how easy it was for Amélie to touch the tip of her feet when she had her legs stretched 180º on the mat. Even opening her legs that much was an astonishing feat, considering she hadn’t been training for almost an year. Physiotherapy was working bit by bit, after all.

She changed the position and sat with both legs straight in front of her.  She could move one foot effortlessly in little circles, then back and forth, and keep it tensioned until she heard the small click of the stretch. The other foot, though, couldn’t do more than trace half circles and move back and forth in a limited angle. It was okay. She knew it would never be as good as before, and at least it didn’t hurt anymore. It used to hurt a lot, even with such small, simple motions.

Amélie stopped and frowned, acknowledging her own thoughts. She was accepting her state. What a change of behaviour from when she arrived in the city, months ago! It was good. She was trying, and it was okay not to be instantly better. 

With that, she knew she couldn’t go back to Annecy, to her parents. Doing it would be submitting herself to that pressure of results and perfection that left her in such a bad place before, and she wasn’t too well yet to confront it. Besides, she had grown fond of London. Or was it the people she found there…?

Amélie smiled to herself. She knew the answer very well.

Her phone buzzed on the side table and she rolled her eyes, thinking of the effort required to get up and check the messages, but ended up doing it regardless. Unlocking the screen, it looked Lena was sending her a lot of messages. What was she up to?

 

**Lena**

_ Hey Amé,  _

_ you won’t believe this! _

_ 2:33pm _

_ I was walking with Lúcio, you know, to his job _

_ We were talking and all and I slipped and fell _

_ (because it’s me we’re talking about) _

_ And I knocked off some cardboard boxes in an alley! _

_ 2:35pm _

_ But there was this thing screeching there, _

_ An animal or something, and we started searching _

_ Guess what we found?! _

_ 2:36pm _

_ [attached picture] _

_ 2:38pm _

  
The picture attached in the chat showed an adorable grey tabby kitten drinking water from a small pot on a marble table. Amélie thought it was laying on top of its paws at first glance, but upon a closer look it looked like it didn’t have these paws, which made her frown.

 

_ A petit chaton! It’s adorable, chérie. _

_ 2:40pm _

_ Does it have no front paws or is it just the photo that’s weird? _

_ 2:41pm _

 

_ It’s a she! And yeah, she doesn’t _

_ She’s a Kitty-Rex! _

_ ;DD _

_ 2:44pm _

 

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ That was an awful joke _

_ It may have shortened my life span by some years _

_ 2:50pm _

 

_ Oi! _

_ Emily would’ve laughed! _

_ D=< _

_ 2:51pm _

 

Truth was that Amélie was laughing in her room, but as Lena couldn’t see her, she could be extra cynical and give her tough love.

 

_ Emily is a dork in disguise. _

_ My tastes are much more refined, chérie. _

_ Is the kitten ok? How are you paying for the vet? _

_ 2:54pm _

 

_ Yes she is! Doc said she was super hungry and may  _

_ have stayed in the box overnight, but there was a lot of _

_ cardboard so it helped keeping her warm. _

_ 2:55pm _

 

_ And about the money yeah, I’ll take care of it! _

_ 2:56pm _

 

_ Do you want me to come over and pay? _

_ I could do that. _

_ 2:57pm _

 

_ No! I can do it! _

_ 2:58pm _

_ Really! _

_ 3:01pm _

 

Amélie could almost hear Lena’s stuttering tone as she read the words, and it made her roll her eyes.

 

_ Nonsense. Give me the address, I’ll be there _

_ In a minute. _

_ 3:02pm _

 

_ Amé, whyyyy! _

_ 3:03pm _   
  


Regardless of the written protest, the next thing Lena sent was the address. Amélie didn’t really know if it was because Lena planned to do it all along or just because she was that persuasive, her piercing stare transcended time and space and got right into Lena’s mind, filling her with terror and making her comply.   
  


\--   
  


“So Lena was a total accident, then?” Erato asked, pencil writing over paper furiously. When she finally stopped and raised her head to look at Emily, the muse was staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, bearing an unconscious frown that suddenly softened to a playful smirk.

Emily shifted a bit from her position sitting with the legs over the armrest, in order to look at her companion. “Definitely not. Being bound to her was an accident, but falling in love… That was all on her dashing personality and totally clueless charm.” She snickered. “You should see her, she’s great.”

“When you go back to them, I’ll do it. I mean, if it’s okay with you.”

“Sure, if you’re up to see diabetes-inducing gay stuff.” She shrugged. “Damn, I want to see them… I could do it, you know. It wouldn’t be difficult to phase in that apartment and see how they’re doing. At the same time, knowing that I’ll be punished further if I do so and probably be forced to stay away even longer… It’s cruel.”

Erato bit the top of her pencil, distracted for a moment. “You know what I think, Emily…”

“Hm?” She leaned in a bit.

“I think they’re really afraid you’re going to do something very stupid because you’re in love with these ladies.”

Emily smiled, clearly amused with the possibility. “Like what? Make a deal with the Witch of the Wilds and create a whole new species?”

That made the Erato laugh in turn. “It worked for Junkenstein, right?”

“Suuuure… Except his best friend was then an undead abomination… But I guess he didn’t mind much.” Emily shook her head. “Nah… Some of them are genuinely concerned about me, but most are just offended. They think I forgot my place and got greedy. I don’t even know if they’re that wrong, to be honest.”

“Well, from experience, no great story ever started with someone conforming to what they were imposed.” 

Erato was back to her notes in a flash, and she didn’t notice how her words affected Emily. Not even in regards to herself, but something that stirred inside, making her remind of a quote she 

once heard:  _ Art is resistance. _ As long as she stood true to her heart and it didn’t hurt other people, then nobody could tell her what was wrong or right - and she believed muses could inspire by active example, too.

 

\--   
  


Angela was so tired. She had three emergency cases in one day, including one where they had to reanimate the patient on the spot. The man was dead for almost a whole minute before his heart started beating again. It could’ve been just another typical Tuesday, had the exhaustion of arriving much earlier and leaving way later not caught up with her so visibly that her colleagues had practically kicked her out of the workplace, and it was barely 8pm.

She entered the living room like an undead from a cheap show, grumbling and dragging herself slowly. She’d have gone straight to her room, without acknowledging the other people in there, were they not being loud and agitated about something. She blinked a couple of times. Focused. Angela then could hear the exact words, although understanding what they meant required a processing activity her brain had already shut down for the night, it seemed.

“I can’t believe after all I did for her, she chose to sleep in your lap!” Lena practically squeaked, looking overly hurt.

“Well  _ chérie _ , what can I say? She knows who’s best.” Amélie let out a low, amused hum.

“Bloody treason, that is! I was the one who waited there the whole time, I treated her like a child!”

“You wanted to call her Kitty-Rex. It’s only fitting she’d look for a more reasonable mother.”

“It was a  _ joke!” _ She replied, defensively. “And she can have two mothers, I’ll have you know!”   


Angela, who was listening quite passively until the moment, catched the words “child” and “two mothers”, and her exhausted mind just filled in the gaps.

”You’re going to have a child?!” She gasped, mouth comically agape.

“Oh hi Angie, what’s u-- wow, you’re wrecked!” Lena’s eyes went wide.

“So perceptive,  _ chérie. _ ” Amélie side-eyed her. “No Angela, we’re not having a child, but come see.”

Angela sighed painfully at the mention of moving, but curiosity (and a bit of conformity to the existential pain) made her move forward and circle the couch to see whatever Amélie wanted her to.  She came upon a tiny ball of grey fur sleeping all curled up on her cousin’s lap, leaning on one of her hands.   


“Oh my god, it’s adorable!” She managed to smile through all the exhaustion. “Now I really have to go to bed.” And she dragged herself pitifully out of the room, and from the sound of it upstairs too.

“That was surprisingly tame, from what you told me. ” Lena raised an eyebrow, looking towards the corridor and the stairs.

“Wait until she’s thinking straight and realizes there’s a cat in her house.” Amélie chuckled, stroking the kitten’s fur lightly. “Angela is going to spoil little Poulain so hard.”

“Well, she… Wait. You named her  _ Poulain? _ ” She had an incredulous expression. “Really?!”

“ _ Oui, _ why not?”   
  
“Like that French mov-- Oh. Oooooh  _ no,  _ it’s a shitpost!” Now she looked in a mix of pain, surprise and terror. “Amélie and Poulain, right?!  _ God! _ And you said my joke was awful!”

Amélie opened a rather dangerous smile. “Mine is not offensive, at least.”

“I wasn’t really going to name her that! But you know what, I have a much better name now - right, little Baguette?” Lena almost whispered the last part to the kitten, but her eyes were locked on Amélie’s reaction.

It proved to be very rewarding, given that the shock in her face was priceless.

“You will  _ not _ name our kitten  _ Baguette! _ ” Amélie grabbed a cushion and threw it at Lena, who was quick enough to dodge it.

Poulain/Baguette raised her head, meowing annoyed at the sudden motion and rising noise.

“Don’t startle Baguette, Amé!” She jumped from the couch, then stopped a moment because her head spun wildly. “Blimey, I gotta stop doing that.”

“Agreed. And I will leave my  _ Poulain _ undisturbed, don’t worry.” The icy glare she directed at Lena almost made her feel the cold of the arctic in her veins. “You should go to sleep or something.”   
  
“So you can have more time to indoctrinate Baguette into thinking her name is Poulain? No bloody way, luv! I’m taking her with me to the bedroom!”

A stream of angry French curses just left Amélie’s lips. “Do that and I’ll throw you out of my house wearing only pajamas!”

“Then I’m going to sleep in your room to make sure you’re not filling her head with your French deception!” Lena couldn’t help herself but snicker at that. The whole situation was absurd, especially how much it escalated, and that was really great about it. “She’s a right British girl, just like me!”

“I’m sorry to inform you,  _ chérie, _ but that’s absolutely not a quality.”

“We’ll see about that!”

Lena wasn’t kidding when she said she’d go sleep in Amélie’s room. Later, she dragged her mattress all the way there and arranged it at the end of her bed, under Amélie’s disapproving stare. She replied with a sarcastic little smile, laid down and covered herself with a blanket. Sadly it wasn’t the Union Jack one she had at her flat, but it did its job anyway.

Poulain/Baguette was playing with a paper ball all over the bed, unaware of all the bickering, stumbling around the thing and nudging it with her head. It was a lovely sight, and eventually both Amélie and Lena stopped to look at it, all moved like two silly mothers whose child was taking the first steps, all their differences forgotten.   
  


\--   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the kitty should be named Baguette, what do you think? =D
> 
> As always, thank you my wonderful betas Jrade, Yossarian and Yumiru. You help so damn much <3


	19. Chapter 19

The morning arrived with the chirping of birds and the distant sound of cars on the street. Lena yawned from her bed arranged by the foot of Amélie’s, and she noticed some uncharacteristic warmth around the back of her legs. Looking over, Baguette/Poulain was sleeping curled up on the back of her knees on top of the blanket, and that made her immensely smug. Ha! The kitten loved her, proof that she was definitely Baguette!

Lena pestered Amélie with it for the rest of the day. Their naming war continued full force, with an exchange of flying cushions at one point. While they were occupied with it, Angela made a point of spoiling the kitten the best she could, because war was something too rough for an infant at such a tender age to witness.

Angela called in sick, by the way, encouraged by the two women home. She also thought she was having a case of the flu that contributed to her tired state. Regardless, she ordered chinese food and watched series the whole day, and both Lena and Ámelie were happy to join her for that very difficult and demanding task.

Thursday was rainy, and Lena finally went back to her house. She also made a scene of leaving Poulain/Baguette, this time not because of her battle with Amélie, but because she genuínely didn’t want to go without her. It was cute, but Amélie pointed out they had physio to go to and she could always come visit the little thing, so she’d better go get ready. It was wise not to argue when she had that deathly stare of hers, and Lena had left for too long already, she didn’t have more spare clothes and had to take care of some minor thing… Defeated, she went back.

Friday started way too early, with Ana shaking Lena to consciousness. Apparently the elderly woman found something about something and wanted Lena to do something, to which the girl replied with an unintelligible grunt and fell asleep again.

Second attempt. Ana shook Lena and told her the ginger had just arrived. She was sitting in a second, looking at Ana with an expectant look. “Really?!”

“No, but now you’re listening.” Ana raised an eyebrow, pointing back to the living room. “Lúcio is trying something and we need your help.”

“Uh… What for? Couldn’t it wait?” Lena rubbed her eyes, visibly disappointed.

“No, he’s in trance and wants to talk to you. C’mon, hurry!” Ana clapped, urging her on, and left the room in broad steps. Lena rolled her eyes and stood up slowly, stretching her neck, and dragged herself out with absolutely no motivation to do so. What could be all that important to drag her out of bed that early? She had to rest, doctor’s orders! (That she invoked as she saw fit, of course.)

In the living room,  Lúcio was sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, eyes closed, palms up on his lap.

“Put your hands over his, yes?” Ana nodded towards him.

Lena raised an eyebrow but didn’t voice the question. She merely did as she was told.

A shiver ran down Lúcio’s body.

 

_“It should not be.”_  He whispered slowly. “ _It should not be. It should not be. It should not be.”_

 

“Uh… Ana...?” Lena took an apprehensive glance towards her neighbor.

 

_“The rip must be corrected. The storm slithers closer, in unexpected places.”_

 

“Okay I’m really creeped out now!” Lena looked at Ana again, this time openly scared.

The elderly woman put a hand on her shoulder, her expression a reassuring seriousness. “He won’t hurt you, don’t let go.”

 

_“Clock’s ticking.”_

 

With that, Lúcio’s eyes opened and he gasped for air like he had just resurfaced after a long time underwater. He saw Lena’s terrorized expression and grabbed her hands softly, instead of just staying with them on top of his. “What happened...?”

“Oh, we just learnt some ‘storm’ is 'slithering’ closer from unexpected places. Damn spirits are just so ominous, all of them.” Ana scoffed, rolling her eyes, then squeezed Lena’s shoulder for assurance. “It’s okay child, you can go back to sleep now.”

“Like I fucking could! Oh no, you’re going to explain all this shit to me, the both of you!”

“It’s fair.” Lúcio pointed out.

Ana sighed and let go of her, heading to the kitchen. “Over breakfast, then.”

“Over my personal hygiene, first of all!” Lena made an annoyed grimace and headed for the bathroom.

 

\--

 

Ana cooked _tameeya,_ the egyptian original falafel, and Lena was bouncing on her feet for it to get ready, because her neighbor made the best egyptian food. When the trio were settled around the table eating properly, they resumed the previous conversation.

The first thing Ana explained to Lena was that the one talking was a spirit with a superior sight, who could see things they couldn’t and also that there probably was a lot of dramatic phrasing going on because such seemed to be the way of spirits who gave messages. That said, they couldn’t disregard the advice, and had to find the hidden meanings of every word, which, by her own words, was 'a right pain the ass, but part of the job’. Lúcio then added that he knew that spirit seer for a long time and she was trustworthy, that’s why he went to the trouble of calling her all the way to London to help them, even though distance worked differently on the other plane.

He barely started talking about symbologies when they heard a crashing sound from the living room, and the three of then ran there to see Emily with her legs up the couch and the rest of the body fallen on the floor. She grasped her chest and breathed heavily, like it was somehow painful for her.

“Emily!”

“Holy shit you’re--”

“Both of you, stay away!” Ana quickly raised her arms, barring them from any action. “Emily, look at me.”

Emily moved herself a bit to the right, so she’d have a better view (even though she was still seeing them all upside down from that angle) and it also looked like it hurt her.

“H-hey there, Ana.” She managed to smile faintly for a moment, then clenched her teeth and closed her eyes.

It took some seconds for her to be able to look at her again, but they locked in a stare. Lena noticed that Emily’s eyes were oscillating in their colors, but the blue that usually permeated them was so pale it could be mistaken for dirty white. She was definitely not well, they had to do something…!

“You’re good, ginger.” Ana said at last, crouching by the  woman. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“Sensory overload.” She replied, chuckling, but it was cut short by heavy breathing. “W-What were you checking me for?”

“Who cares, we gotta take care of you!” Lena practically crashed down besides Ana, completely concerned.

Emily took a moment to look at her, search for Lena’s hand with hers and bring it to her cheek.. “You’re the most wonderful thing I’ve seen these weeks, love.”

Even though they were in a quite urgent situation, Lena’s heart couldn’t help but melt a bit at the statement. She stroked her cheek softly. “What do we do to help you?”

“Let me focus on you.”

“Oh, oh! We could do that meditation thing you did with me some time ago! What do you say?”

She nodded slightly, and Lena opened a smile. Further back, Ana signaled to Lúcio that they’d better go back to the kitchen and leave the two of them alone.

“Well, first thing… Wouldn’t you rather lay on the couch, luv?  That really isn’t a comfortable position.”

“Too much effort.”

“Right, would you rather have me make you more comfortable on the floor, then?”

Again Emily nodded, and Lena jumped up to put her legs down and grab some cushions for her to lean in. That done, she laid down right next to her.

“Better now?” She mumbled softly.

“Yes…”

“Good. Care to breathe with me, luv…?”

Lena proceeded to take her through a quite unorthodox guided meditation where she ended up making Emily relax more by making her laugh than by peacefulness. It had a lot to do with the way she described things - like the _“the mountains have the shape of ice cream balls… What? I’m hungry!”_ and the “ _you see a small house in the middle of a lake, like one you’d see at one of those old kung fu movies, you can almost see Jackie Chan busting out of there, kicking some ninja arse!”._

After this one, by the way, Emily burst into laughter, called her ridiculous and brought her in for a kiss. Needless to say, that was the end of the experience.

“Oh I missed you so much.” Emily joined their foreheads, a delighted smile on her lips.

“So did I, luv! What happened?”

“People raging at the fact that we’re together, mostly.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because according to them I’m forgetting my mission here in order to bang the sexiest of dorks.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Who’d be you, if that wasn’t clear enough.”

“Wait, I’m torn between making a joke here and groaning. What the _fuck,_ people?! You can have a life separate from work, you know?!”

“No they don’t, that’s the whole thing. ‘Having a life’ is something you do.” She booped Lena’s nose. “We are not only born into our trades, but born _from_ them. There’s nothing else, really.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘born from them’?” Lena blinked. “How is someone born from dance? Like, instead of shagging, two people will start dancing and--”

“By the Nine, _no!_ ” Emily put a hand over her mouth and started laughing. “It’s absolutely not like-- Lena!” Emily took her hand off, wiping it on her girl’s shirt, as she had licked her palm.

“What? Like you don’t want me to lick you all over.” She wriggled her eyebrows.

Emily facepalmed. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“I certainly do, luv!” Lena giggled.

Emily then put a hand over Lena’s face, pushing her back gently, and sat afterwards. “I should go see Amélie. How’s she doing?”

Lena followed her lead. “Oh, she’s doing-- Wait, you don’t know about Baguette yet!”

“Baguette…? You mean the bread…?”

Lena had a huge, mischievous grin on her face. “Not at all! Come, we’ll eat, I’ll call Amé here and tell you everything you lost ‘til she arrives!”

 

\--

Whatever Lúcio and Ana were discussing at the kitchen, it had already finished by the time the two women entered the room. A really good smell came from the oven, and Ana informed them she was cooking some more _taameya_. Lena wouldn’t complain at all.

When Lena called Amélie to tell her Emily had finally appeared, she barely finished her words before the woman was asking to talk to her muse. Of course, what was she expecting? Rationality and formal greetings, from those two lovebirds?  Seeing Emily’s face when she picked up the phone and imagining Amélie’s made Lena smile. Glucose levels in her blood automatically rose from all the sweetness deployed there.

They talked a lot. The others were already eating by the time Emily went back to the kitchen and Lena started telling her what happened in her absence. She almost spit food from laughing when she heard about the kitten naming wars she was still having with Amélie, and Lúcio told her about the bar he’d take everyone that night.

“A jazz bar?” Emily raised her eyebrows, visibly excited. “Oh I’ll be there, I’ll _definitely_ be there! And I want you dressed properly, miss!”

Lena stopped with the fork midway to her mouth. “For what occasion? Your wedding with Amélie?”

Emily tilted her head slowly and put on a smug smile. “I’d think you’d be a little more informed if it was our wedding, considering you’d be one of the brides.”

“Wooooooooo!” Lúcio laughed. “Way to go, Emily!”

Ana was shaking her head slowly, amused by the exchange, and especially because Lena looked like she had been frozen in place by shock. Shock and embarrassment, by the way she blushed. Fortunately, a knock on the door gave her the perfect excuse to get out of the place, with Emily giggling right after.

So there Amélie stood, waiting in the corridor with the posture of a goddess, but eyes full of a very human anticipation. Baguette/Poulain was in her arms, taking happy nibs at a small feathery toy when the door opened. The kitten raised her head and meowed when she saw Lena at the door. It was her funny mother! She had to go and greet her!

“Baguette!” Lena opened a broad smile, going to Amélie and placing a kiss on her cheek, but rapidly turning her attention to the kitten. “How are you doing, little one?” She picked her up from Amélie’s arms and brought her to her chest, giggling when the kitten tried to climb her shirt. “Look, she loves me!”

“We all do, _chérie._ Even if you want to name her Baguette.” Amélie chuckled.

“Hey Amé.”

Emily was at the door below Lena, and the girl stepped aside to let her pass and greet Amélie. That wasn’t what she did, though; both of them stood where they were, looking at each other. The intensity of their stare was electrical, like they were magnets with an irresistible pull to each other. A second after, they were meeting in a warm embrace.There were whispered questions, laughing. Amélie taking Emily’s face in her hands and pulling her closer with a kind of slow certainty. Mute desire in their eyes, crossing breaths, all that static… And then they hesitated.

 

Lena was watching...

 

And she scoffed.

 

“Bloody hell, just kiss already!”

They couldn’t help but oblige vigorously and extensively, until breath was short and the heat, strong. They disengaged and looked at each other, no words required: Emily was concerned with Amélie’s time; Amélie was wrapping her head around how strongly she had craved for that kiss but had been dismissing it, and now the whole thing just broke her internal dam. She wanted everything. God, how she wanted.

Then Emily started laughing to herself and hugged Amélie fondly, extending an arm in Lena’s direction for her to join then. Which she did, a bit awkwardly, not to squeeze Baguette/Poulain.

“I missed you two so much” Emily giggled, half drunk with happiness. “My girls. My beautiful, lovely girls.”

And there they stood, hugging in the corridor, until Ana shouted from inside the house that they’d better make out inside, because it would be more comfortable.

\--

Amélie let out a screech similar to a dying animal when they entered the house and Emily finally turned her attention to the kitten in Lena’s arms, happily calling her Baguette. Lena burst into laughter; That was really unexpected, and she was sure Emily did it just to mess with Amélie. It worked: all the way to the kitchen she witnessed a very dramatic and absolutely not serious argument in French, featuring ample, theatrical gestures from both sides, which put her in mind of people fighting in plays for children. It really made her smile. For all the talk of having superior taste, Amélie really liked to play along the dork alley, huh?

Baguette/Poulain had an absurdly good time of being set free on the breakfast table and messing with everything. Ana and Lúcio immediately fell in love with her - how could they not? - and Amélie kept dying a little more every time they’d call her precious Poulain, Baguette.

“Okay, fine, you win. Everyone will know her as Baguette anyway, so what does it matter if I call her Poulain, right?” She crossed her arms and sighed, looking away like the perfect drama queen she was.

“And that’s one more victory for Great Britain!” Lena flashed a victory sign and winked. “And now I hereby name you, regal feline of Houses Guillard, Oxton and…” She looked at Emily with inquiring eyes.

She took a moment to understand what she wanted. “Oh! I… Crap, I don’t have a surname…!”

“You don’t?” Amélie put a hand over her chest, impressed. “How do you find specific people in your plane?”

Ana leaned forward, interested. She had an indecipherable quality to her expression.

“Uh… I… It doesn’t work by names, really. I guess I’m Emily of the Terpsichore…?”

“Great!” Lena continued. “So, I hereby name you, regal feline of the Houses Guillard, Oxton and Terpsichore, Baguette Poulain Guillard Oxton Terpsichore the First!”

“ _Eita porra!_ ” Lúcio laughed. “What a name, huh! Very... aristocratic! Are you going to write _that_ in her tag?”

“Or you could just call her Baguette” Lena turned to Amélie and winked.

The kitten, who was at the other side of the table playing with Ana and a spoon, turned to Lena and meowed, then ran towards her, tripped on a cup, fell and got up again as if nothing had happened. Amélie caressed the back of her ear.

“Oh I should so kill you right now, you foolish girl.” Amélie scoffed, faking offense.

“I love you too.” Lena giggled, and that made Amélie roll her eyes and smile. It was too adorable, she couldn’t keep her snob façade much longer.

Emily leaned towards Ana, a soft smile on her lips as she watched the exchange. “Did they behave while I was gone?”

“Well, no one was arrested.” Ana chuckled. “Did _you_ behave, though?”

“Oh no I didn’t. That’s why I was grounded in the first place.” She looked oddly satisfied about it, proud, even. “Oh, that reminds me...” She turned to her girls, who were now bickering about giving Poulain some bacon. Amélie didn’t like the idea one bit, as it was fat and greasy, probably unhealthy for a kitten, and Lena argued it would be just a tiny bit, not the whole strip, let her spoil her daughter, bloody hell…! “Hey you two! I forgot to say that I’m still in a sort of tight leash here, even though the only leash I’d like would be the ones you’d put on me…”

Lena immediately blushed from head to toe, and Amélie opened a surprised but very amused smile, like she had just learnt a very peculiar and useful piece of information.

“You’re very blunt, huh...?” Lúcio chuckled, but he looked a bit embarrassed. Ana patted him on the shoulder and drank her tea, unimpressed.

“That’s not 10% of the things I think and don’t say, to be honest.” Emily winked. “I can tone it down if you want, though.”

“Oh n-no, don’t worry about me!” The blush wasn’t visible because of his dark skin, but it was pretty clear he was very flustered. “It was just a comment.”

“He’s Lena’s friend, he can take more than that.” Ana commented.

Lena made a grimace. “Oi, what does that mean?!”

“Anyway, I’m going to have to lay low for a while and make a half here, half there schedule.” Emily cut, chuckling. “Meaning I won’t be here as much as I’d like. I’ll have to leave in the afternoon in order to go out with you later, is this okay?”

“Better to have you here for a limited time than not at all, _chérie._ ” Amélie reached out to take her hand, and Lena sighed mockingly.

“Gaaaaaay.” She giggled.

“Why thank you, miss ‘I’m straight as a circle’. Very perceptive of you.”

That made everybody laugh and triggered a quite nerdy response from Lena of how circles were the best shapes because they could have all the sides or none at all, kinda like a schrodinger shape, then that prompted Emily to reply that Lena was then a schrodinger lesbian, both alive and dead when she saw a pretty lady, and it kept going to astonishing proportions until Ana groaned and said it was too much for her old mind to put up with.

Needless to say, time passed by very quickly.

“...And that’s why I say, don’t mess with this Cthulhu nonsense. You might end up with a reanimated tentacle up your arse.” Ana finished her story with the plainest of expressions while the people around burst into laughter - except Amélie. She just had the strongest facepalm ever.

Lena tried to collect herself to say something coherent. “But you know t-there are people who’re into-- oh _god that's so funny -_ that stuff, right...?”

“Please don’t go there...!” Emily put a hand over her mouth.

“Wannabe cultists… Blah.” Ana shook her head, judging. “People mess with magic like it were video games and don’t realize it always has a price, like everything in life.”

“Yeah! You wanna cast fireball, bitch? You better have mana!” Lena shouted happily, and Lúcio laughed.

“I didn’t know you played RPGs,” He said.

“All Hana’s fault.”

Ana looked at them both like they were just proving her point, and that made Amélie and Emily giggle discreetly. The elderly woman leaned towards them both, lowering her voice, eye still locked on the two friends talking on the other side.

“Ginger, are you familiar with seers and the very frustrating and ominous way they deliver messages?”

“...I’d say so, why?”

“Lúcio channelled one earlier. A friend of his…”

She proceeded to tell them about what happened earlier, the words that creeped Lena out and left Ana concerned, although she wouldn’t admit that at the time.

“So that’s why you were checking me out when I got here.” Emily bit her lip. “Storms, clouds… That seems to be a common theme here. There are spirits of the storm, but I can’t really see what they’d want from Lena. There’s something we’re missing here.”

“You know her better than us, Ana. Does Lena have anything… Mystical in her past?”

“Not that she’s told me.”

“Her family?”

She scoffed in complete disgust. “Bastards, but common folk.”

“Any known enemies who could’ve cursed her?” Emily directed her attention to Baguette, who was rubbing against her arm in a very clumsy way. “Friends who messed with the wrong stuff, has she… I don’t know… Defiled anything?”

Ana took a moment to think. “She was a downright punk for a while, but she’s not a heretic. Although… Damn, I don’t believe I forgot that!”

“What?” Both Emily and Amélie leaned towards her.

“That brat Sombra!” She clenched her fist. “She’s got her aura concealed, those unnatural purple eyes, and she was right there when Lena had the accident!”

“But isn’t she a friend of Lena’s? Didn’t she help when she had the accident?” Emily furrowed her brow.

“Yes, and that would’ve made it an attack from an _unexpected place._ ” The elderly woman got up suddenly, her whole demeanor tense. “She’s got some explaining to do!”

“Who?”

Lena and Lúcio were staring at her, alarmed by the sudden movement.

“I just found out who’s been messing with the TV cables.” She quickly replied, going for the door. “Oh, they’re gonna pay!”

“You’re going alone?” Amélie tilted her head, seemingly the only one worried that an elderly woman like Ana was going after someone younger and probably dangerous, if she really was the one who did something to Lena.

“I’m an army on my own, girl, but thank you for asking.” Ana smirked, going out.

Everyone stared at the closed door for a moment.

“Does she do that often?” Lúcio tilted his head.

“Ana is fairly unpredictable, to be honest.” Lena raised an eyebrow, taking toast to her mouth but missing the target because her hand yanked up, covering her nose in peanut butter. “Oh hell.”

Emily giggled, wiping it out with a finger and tasting it absentmindedly. She didn’t notice the way Lena’s eyes followed her finger, or the subtle snicker from Amélie’s part when she saw that.

“So luv... “ Lena started, fidgeting with the toast. “There’s something in my room I’ve been meaning to show you…”

Amélie bursted into laughter. “Really, Lena? That’s what you use?!”

“What?! Do you have any other idea?”

Emily looked at them both and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead she leaned her head over a hand and watched with an amused smile.

“Allow me to demonstrate.” Amélie immediately leaned closer to Emily “Hello _chérie_. There’s a party later today and I need some help with the clothes to wear, care to help me dress up? ...Or undress?” She winked, a pretty sultry smile on her lips.

“Oh bloody hell, there’s no competing with that.” Lena got up and waved her arms goofily, quite like a cartoon character. “Hey Em, I’m horny, wanna make out in the bedroom? Thanks!”

Emily couldn’t help but laugh at that, while Amélie groaned and pinched her nose.

“Well, clearly after this impressive display of--” Emily tried to remain serious but it went as one would expect. “Skill and _eloquence_ \--” She actually had to stop and breathe for a second to collect herself. “From Lena, I clearly can’t choose a winner. Guess you’ll have to make a sandwich out of me to settle this out.”

Lena scoffed, then turned to face Amélie. “You see, and then she complains when I try to shag her!”

“Devious, isn’t she?” Amélie purred in reply, deeply amused.

“I don’t complain!” Emily interrupted them both. “I remind you you’re prohibited by doctors orders, darling.”

Lena pouted and crossed her arms. “Same cockblock feeling, luv.”

“Well… I guess I’d better be going, then. Have fun!” Suddenly Lúcio was going for the door, and no one really made an effort to make him stay out of politeness. No, that was a house of thirsty women, and there was no time for such things.

Amélie tilted her head ever so slightly. “...Emily sandwich, then?”

“Oh, you bet your arse!” Lena chirped gleefully, almost jumping up and to Emily’s lap.

Emily held her by the shoulders before she could start kissing her neck, though.

“Wait wait wait wait _wait!_ ” She fired the words like a machine gun, in rapid succession. Her face grew serious and she stared at a point beyond the table with so much focus it reminded Lena of burning leaves with a magnifying glass.

 

An awkward moment of stillness passed, Lena and Amélie looking at Emily very confused.

 

The muse scoffed.

 

“Right now? Really?” She sighed with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Something wrong...?” Lena looked from her to the open empty space and Amélie, unsure what to do.

“Yes, very wrong - I have at least three hours before the time I set to go back and they’re fucking calling me right now for an audience! _Whyyyy!”_ She let herself fall on Lena, sighing with the weariness of the world. Really, what the _hell_ , she had just came back to them…! “I just want to be with my-- urgh, nevermind. I’d better go.”

“Nooooo!” Lena hugged her, and it was weird because she was never this tall, but at the same time her embrace was so good it didn’t matter. Emily didn’t even think of teasing her over the height difference, just leaned into the embrace and sighed.

Amélie, in turn, looked at the place the muse had been staring at. “Can you give us five minutes, please? We’ll return her whole, I promise.” Then she got up and went to the others, hugging Emily from behind as she could with the chair on the way.

“I don’t want to be returned.” The ginger mumbled. “I’ll be good, I promise...”

“Oh chérie, I can assure you it’s not willingly.” Amélie kissed the top of her head.

“They want you back because you’re so good they’re jealous we get you all for ourselves!” Lena giggled.

“Quite the opposite, darling, they’re making a recall.”

“They think you’re defective, Emily?”

The way Amélie hissed the words made the other two stare, and Emily detangled herself from Lena a bit to caress her face.

“I surely don’t quite fit the mold, Amé, as I’m sure you have noticed. I’m at peace with it, though.

“But they won’t stop, will they?” It was Lena who asked, her tone lower and darker than they’ve seen. It was like a shadow fell over her. “They never do.”

There was only one other time when they saw Lena acting grim like that, and it was right after the accident. That, of course, rang all the alarms in both Emily’s and Amélie’s minds.

“Well, they didn’t turn the House of the Terpsichore upside down until they got permission to bind their fucking--” Emily grunted, but then stopped and shook her head, annoyed. “You know what, I shouldn’t be ranting, that’s playing their game. I’ll go back and be the most devastatingly above them I can, just like Amé.” She flashed a smile towards the frenchwoman and turned back to face Lena, holding her face with both hands. “Even if they don’t stop, darling, I can take care of myself. I’m a misfit and I got the both of you, how’s that for an achievement?” She poked Lena’s nose with hers, and both of them giggled. “I’ll come back by night, I promise.”

“Just be safe.” Lena whimpered.

“Crush them under your heel.” Amélie played with her hair, massaging her scalp again.

“That is really, really not helping.” She almost moaned. “I will.”

And like that, for the first time, they saw her disappear: one moment there, the next entirely not, like a cut in a movie. Lena fell sitting on the chair and let out an yelp, and Amélie slowly put her hand down, enjoying the ghost feeling of Emily’s hair between her fingers.

“Well… Gone.” She sighed, but then raised her head and opened a smirk. “We have until nighttime to transform you from this,” She gestured to Lena still in her pajamas, “to a dashing lover worth of my muse.”

“Oi!”

Amélie and Lena started bickering over who would be best dressed at the jazz bar and ultimately take Emily’s heart, using the time to clean the breakfast table and wash the dishes afterwards.

There would be a lot of work ahead, including Lena gingerly asking if Amélie could help her with some easier steps she thought she would be able to handle, even being a shaky mess. It would be foolish to think she wouldn’t want to dance when she got there, especially when the girls started doing it, as of course they would.

In some other part of town, Ana finally reached Fareeha and told her about her latest conclusions, requesting her help to track and find Sombra. Finally, in Lena’s bathroom, a chaotic mess of spread toilet paper and chewed carpet littered the floor, as Baguette had just learnt how much fun it was to play with those.

 

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eita porra -> Holy shit or something similar
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being patient about the updates, guys! I'm in weird moods to write lately... And then it takes a while. <3  
> Thank you my wonderful betas for the feedback, too! Can't do it without you!


	20. Chapter 20

“Why are you taking so long out there? It’s just a shirt,  _ chérie  _ .” Amélie furrowed her brow, looking at the time on her phone.

“Yeah, yeah! I know, I’m fine!”

Lena sounded a bit too annoyed for Amélie’s taste. What was going on inside that fitting room?

They were in one of those expensive clothing stores Lena used to look at and scoff, where a shirt would cost half of her monthly income and a kidney, if she wasn’t careful. For obvious reasons, it wasn’t the first place she’d go if she wanted an outfit for the night, but Amélie didn’t give her much say in the matter, she just dragged her there. And she was also paying.

“Lena… Can I come in?”

“No! I’m almost finished!”

“Okay.”

A full minute passed and nothing was heard from Lena. Then two. Then…

“Lena,  _ what is the matter?  _ ” She asked again, more serious this time.

“It’s nothin-- Ah, to hell with that! Come in.”

Amélie swiftly passed through the curtain separating the room from outside, and faced Lena trying to button her shirt without a lot of success. Immediately Amélie’s heart tightened - she had completely forgotten her motor problems.

“Let me help you,  _ chérie.  _ ” She offered, taking the task off her hands and doing a quick job of buttoning up the shirt.

“I thought I could do it but these stupid holes are too tight, the buttons are small and I feel stupid!”  Lena pouted.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, it’s not your fault. There, take a look.” Amélie spun her around to face the mirror, then finished tugging the hem of the shirt inside her pants, pulled her sleeves up and adjusted the collar. “You look really nice in proper clothes,  _ chérie.  _ ”

Lena furrowed her brow. What did she mean, proper clothes? Her usual clothes were alright! Okay, this shirt fit her incredibly well, was softer than any other she'd had, did have these stylish details… But it was still a shirt.

“Do you like it?” Amélie looked expectant of her answer. She did like the subject.

“Well, it’s alright I suppose?” Lena shrugged.

“No, that won’t do.” She put a hand on her chin and leaned on the wall. “You have to feel awesome in the clothes you wear, otherwise it’s pointless.”

“I appreciate it, luv, but I don’t really feel comfortable unless in jeans and t-shirts.” Lena scratched the back of her neck, a bit embarrassed. “I mean, I did love the RAF blues, but that’s more because I was proud of them. I did look killer in full service dress, but it’s like, too much for just a bar...”

Amélie tilted her head a bit, interested. “Do you have photos? I’d love to see you in them.”

“Uniform kink?” Lena replied, chuckling, and was immediately hit by the first thing Amélie found to throw at her, which was her  _ Tonari no Totoro  _ t-shirt.

\--

“I’ll let you pick the things you think are awesome, and we’ll work from there.”

After the fifth time choosing clothes for Lena and having her feel whatever in them, that was the alternative Amélie came up with for them to find the ideal outfit for the night out. If left alone, Lena would surely go with a battered jeans and a hoodie to the place, even though Lúcio had told them it was more of a high end bar, and that was unacceptable.

It took some time for Lena to come back to Amélie with a small pile of pieces she’d wear for the occasion, if she was the one to choose. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as much of a fashion trainwreck as Amélie thought; Most of the pieces she chose were okay, the problem started with matching them. Lena would happily put an orange shirt (an orange shirt, for god’s sake!), Navy blue pants and a red converse in the same outfit, and that was because Amélie threatened to go back to France and take Poulain with her if she got near her with any sort of shoes by Crocs.

Okay, Lena was a fashion trainwreck nevertheless.

“ _ Chérie.  _ ” Amélie pinched the bridge of her nose, not even knowing how to start without hurting Lena’s feelings. “What about we use less… Colorful clothes, mm? A white shirt could work here, and black shoes -  _ shoes,  _ not sneakers - and black trousers.”

“What’s wrong with orange?” She tilted her head quite innocently.

“Oh, nothing, except when paired with blue and red. Then it’s just ugly.”

She furrowed her brow. “But I like it!”

“I should’ve let you try it on, to see what I mean.” Amélie shook her head. “How are you oblivious to color matches like this, being an artist?”

Lena pouted, grunting. “First I can’t draw well because of the bloody shaking, now I gotta hear I can’t match colors…”

Oh, the poor thing. She looked just like a scolded puppy, so much that Amélie almost patted her head.

“On the contrary; I’m very sure you can, that’s why I’m surprised.” She had a surprisingly soft expression. “You’re very pretty, Lena. You should wear clothes that capitalize on this fact.”

Lens opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it at the last moment and averted her gaze. She looked troubled, pained even. Amélie didn’t understand at all what caused it.

“...Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just…” Lena bit her lip, her hands fidgeting with the hem of the shirt. “Please don’t make me wear a dress…”

It was as if ice ran down Amélie’s veins. That tone, that hesitation… She had seen and done it enough to instantly recognize it: they were mark of leashes imposed before. Even if they weren’t there anymore, the memory of the restraint and resulting suffering remained, same with the behaviour.

Amélie reached out and pulled Lena’s chin up, gently. “I’d never do it. It’s always your choice,  _ chérie  _ . Besides, I personally think the sight of you in a tailored suit would be way hotter.”

“You think so?” Lena blushed slightly, but soon a smug smile made its way to her face. “But I’m hot even without it, right?”

Amélie raised her eyebrows in a fairly judgemental stare, but she smiled. “So, there are a few pieces you brought me I think could work…”

 

\--

Their steps echoed ghastly through the corridor covered in obscene graffiti. The place smelled of weed and smoke, and more than once something even more unpleasant blended into it, making them quicken their pace, even though they were going pretty fast anyway.

Ana and Fareeha didn’t have a lot of time to spare, now that they finally tracked that more-than-shady character, Sombra.

As they approached room 666, the one with a bright purple sugar skull painted in stencil over it (and really, who even used that number reference in this day and age?) the door made a very distinct _ click!  _ sound and slid back to let them in. Mother and daughter exchanged a wary look - they were clearly expected. Things could turn out way more difficult than previously expected.

Purple ambient lighting and a single computer with the screen turned on met them as they walked in. It would be ominous enough, even before Fareeha went and checked the other rooms in her standard police procedures and stated that they were empty and stripped of any furniture. 

At least the door didn’t slam shut and lock them in, so there was that upside.

“I was so sure the lead was right…” Fareeha mumbled under her breath, still looking around.

“ _ Oh chica, don’t be so upset. You really were right!” _

The computer screen flickered and started showing a live feed of a black hispanic woman with a sidecut, hair dyed purple and a very smug expression.  Fareeha turned to it in a reflex, pistol ready - and then she scoffed. Really? They were played like that?

“Sombra.” Ana greeted, humorless.

_ “Ana and Fareeha Amari.”  _ Sombra put a finger on her cheek, deeply amused by her own wit, as always.  _ “I wonder why the sudden visit?” _

“And I wonder why you chose not to meet us face to face.” The elderly woman replied.

_ “Well, I don’t take chances, that’s all. So?” _

“We’re here to talk about Lena Oxton.” Fareeha clarified, finally putting her pistol back in its holster, but not taking her hand off of it. There was not immediate danger there, from what she could tell, but that could surely change.

_ “That’s pretty obvious, chica, she’s our only thing in common.” _

“We’re hoping you could clarify some things about the night of the accident.” Fareeha completely ignored Sombra’s teasing tone and kept talking, her face the mask of professionalism. “You said she went into the race without your knowledge, and that you wouldn’t have let her if you were there at the moment. Where were you, then?”

_ “Doing business with some omnics nearby.”  _ She answered right off the bat.

“But why did you take Lena  _ there  _ of all places? A cursed site, and one full of cars, at it?” Fareeha kept at it, unimpressed.

Sombra merely raised an eyebrow. _ “So you really believe that shit,  _ amiga  _? It’s just an abandoned worksite, and the girl was feeling so down, taking her to see some cars felt right. How would I know she’d jump into one and be crazy?”  _ She finished it off with a derisive chuckle.

“How would you know indeed.” Ana tightened her eyes. “Except you did know of her impulses when she’s down, and you knew what it would do to her.”

Fareeha wouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but watching her mother do it was oddly fascinating and frightening at the same time. For a woman with just one eye (or maybe because she was a woman with just one eye) her stare felt like it could pierce into flesh and soul and send it burning down to hell with judgement if she so desired.

...Okay, maybe she was being a bit dramatic, but the point still stood; she wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of it one bit.

_ “Ah, so that’s what it’s about! You think I hurt Lena purposefully… To what end, again?”  _ Sombra leaned in closer to the camera filming her, a sharp edge gleaming in her purple eyes.

“I don’t know what you are, but I know as a fact you’re not one of ours.” Ana pointed out, taking a step towards the computer. “And you’re there whenever she’s at her lowest. If there’s something I know, is that your kind is cunning - You’re draining her, aren’t you?!”

_ “Oh, so I’m a demon?”  _ Sombra leaned her head on her hand, looking bored.  _ “That’s why I never prevented you from taking her out of the dump and helping her, or, better yet, really wanted her to get to the hospital the other day, when she was having a seizure?”  _ She yawned.  _ “Aw  _ viejita  _ , get better arguments before accusing me, these are so boring.” _

“There’s no use for a depleted battery.” Ana replied. “No, better to keep it at a reasonable level so it can keep on powering you up… While you pose as the good guy, look at how much you care.”

_ “Oh yeah, classic abusive relationship dynamics.”  _ Sombra checked her nails, taking her time to answer.  _ “Nah, I don’t go to these lengths to get what I want from people. It’s too troublesome and personal... But you’re not gonna believe me anyway, are you?” _

The lights flickered and the computer went off. Fareeha ran towards it, to check if it was just a power shortage. Ana, for the first time that day,  readied her rifle.

Sombra’s disembodied voice came from everywhere around them.

_ “Let me give you a tip, from friend to friend - You don’t just go to someone’s house and start accusing them without proof. That might make them angry, you know.” _

The door outside slammed shut and locked in three different places.

_ “  _ Adios, amigas  _. See you next time, hopefully when you’re not trying to blame me.” _

“ _ Fuck!” _

Fareeha ran back to the door and started trying to figure out how to open it. Ana barely sighed. It would be a long day.

 

\--

 

Amélie worked at dressing Lena for at least two hours, making sure she was at her prime. The outfit was the easy part -  Lena couldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy the attention and, in a more embarrassing note, the hands all over her - but what took Amélie three-quarters of the time was taming that unruly, impossibly soft brown hair. Especially because she rejected Lena’s help and didn’t let her get near a mirror the whole time.

It was all worth it, though, when the girl was cleared to see the final result. She felt like an old cartoon character in those clothes, or a bohemian from the last century who would’ve probably gotten tuberculosis and died (Amélie thought that comparison was real odd, by the way). Lena’s eyes sparkled with that childish enthusiasm Amélie grew fond of, and that was how she knew she did it right that time. When they met with her friends after and they saw it, they made a big deal of praising her over it, to top it all. As Amélie said, Lena was beautiful and should dress accordingly, and it was good to have other people telling her so as well.

There was one woman Lena was dying to show herself to, though, and she still wasn’t there when they arrived at the jazz bar.

The place was quite big but still cozy, with the walls covered in platinum and gold records awards, photos of important jazz musicians and old movies, as well as actors and actresses, and some neon signs. In the middle of the room was an empty stage with dark wooden floor that was perfect for dancing, and there was an elevated part with instruments ready that certainly belonged to that night’s attraction, which Lúcio happily started talking about to no one in particular.

It was when they were heading to their table that she arrived. First a whisper in Amélie’s ear and then one against Lena’s nape, dragging the words: “ _ My beautiful, lovely girls.”  _ Then, when they turned, a sight.

Amélie was absolutely gorgeous in her black, opaque dress, a silver necklace with a ruby around her neck, stockings and a high ponytail. Lena, really dashing in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, suspenders, high-waist tight black pants and shoes, her hair gelled back.

Emily stood there with red flaming hair and a vivid blue dress, and just by existing in that moment she set Lena aflame and left Amélie really impressed (not to mention really turned on).

“Sorry it took so long.” She said softly. “You two are  _ so  _ beautiful!”

“No,  _ chérie,  _ you--” Amélie started, but Lena cut her in a very efficient way - she pulled Emily to her and crashed their lips, taking her attention completely off the words. It gained a little smirk from Amélie, though.

“Oh hey” Emily finally said when they parted, quite breathless.

“Gorgeous. Irresistible. Not. Fair!”

Emily snorted. “So are you.” Then she looked beyond Lena and to Amélie. “And you too.”

She disengaged just to plunge into Amélie’s arms and kiss, and Lena couldn’t help but put a hand in her forehead, faking concern. “I’m going to combust spontaneously before the end of the night, you guys mark my words…!”

Hana was the one to answer. “I’ll keep my phone ready just in case you do!”

 

\--

The highly anticipated encounter between Lúcio and Hana went on just as Lena predicted: they loved each other. More than that: Brigitte also loved him, and the three of them engaged in a fervorous conversation about old video games, so much no one dared to try to get their attention as they argued about who was the best, the classic  _ Sonic  _ for the Mega Drive or  _ Super Mario World  _ for the Super Nintendo. The rest of them stuffed their mouths with appetizers and watched for a bit, but soon engaged in conversations of their own.

“So Winston! Lena told me you’re working on an arcane energy sensor with a group of researchers, is that true?” Angela took a sip of her mojito and leaned towards the gorilla.

“Well, not exactly… You know how much of my work has to do with different types of energy fields. It’ll be a more accurate magical pinpointer than we have nowadays, yes, because the current technology we have is archaic, but it’s conceived to be an energy type differentiator.” He opened an excited smile. “It’s in the early stages of development, though. The subject is… Uh... Very complicated.” He chuckled, a bit embarrassed with the confession. It didn’t matter if it was his expertise field (hell, he was a product of magic himself, or at least, it was the more accepted theory on his human-level intelligence), magic was a tricky thing.

“That’s even better! You’ll be able to point at an artifact and not only say if it’s magic, but the type of magic involved?”  Her eyes glinted with amazement. “Just imagine the possibilities!”

“Oh I know! It’ll be very useful to know if someone is cursed or just a victim of a dark magic spell, or even if it’s just a common affliction.” He took a handful of breadsticks and cheese appetizers and ate them all in one go. “It’ll help so much!”

“Careful, Winston, some may call it witchcraft!” Angela gave him a playful look and laughed afterwards, soon joined by him.

“Well, as long as they don’t try to burn me in a pyre…”

“Oh, you’re too smart for that.” She winked. “Where are... Did you get all the breadsticks?”

“I, uh…” He looked at the empty bowl and scratched his beard. “We can order more…”

On the other side of the table, it was a very difficult task for Lena to refrain from bursting into flames, especially because Emily and Amélie weren’t being that sympathetic with her condition. They exchanged sultry words in French, making her imagine just the sort of dirty things they were saying, and the way they stared at each other…!

“You know, I can’t understand what you’re saying but I’m not blind!” Lena punched Emily’s bare shoulder lightly. “Stop making me thirsty!”

“But you have lemonade right there,  _ chérie…  _ !” Amélie gave her a small cynical smile, and Lena squinted her eyes.

“It’s a thirst so strong and consuming, Amé, only one thing can sate…” She said in a spooky tone, and had a finger go up Emily’s back and nape, making her slowly tense up.

“You’re definitely not… Helping yourself, you know.” Emily commented, closing her eyes and doing her best not to bite her lips.

“You started.”

“I’m not complaining, darling, but  _ you  _ will only get more frustrated.”

She had a point. Lena withdrew her hand and sighed, playing with the straw on her lemonade, and leaned her head on her hand. Amélie patted her shoulder, sympathetic.

By her side, Hana scoffed. “You never played  _ 16-bit Hero?!  _ Oh no, that won't do! I just have to initiate you, Lúcio!”

“Why does that sound like a cult shit…?” He frowned. Brigitte giggled.

“Because it's very addictive.” She clarified. “I think you'll like it!”

“Of course he will! We'll be there with him! We may even stream it!” She winked. Again, Brigitte giggled, and then gave Hana a quick kiss on the cheek that made the girl blush and lose her cool-looking demeanor for a second.

Lúcio chuckled at that. The girls were adorable. “Okay, we might do it, yeah. Maybe a reaction video? Those are very fun!”

Hana's eyes lit up. “That's a great idea! When are you free to do it…?”

At some point in the conversation their meals arrived, and Winston chuckled when he saw Lena had ordered a plate with fish fingers and custard. It brought back memories.

“You remember, Lena? We used to order those and watch  _ Doctor Who  _ together way into the night. Those were fun times…”

“We watched them until you fell asleep on the couch, you mean.” Lena wriggled her eyebrows with a smug smile on her lips.

“I didn’t!” He protested.

“No? Why did I always pull you to lay down and brought a blanket, then? What a waste of time!”

“I didn’t know you two lived together.” Hana suddenly cut into their conversation, curious. It wasn’t her fault if she ended up hearing everything from everywhere. It was a gamer’s skill!

“We did before the RAF, when I was a teenager.” Lena scratched her nose.

“What about your parents? Did they live in another city?” Brigitte asked softly. Lena was fun, she'd like to know more about her.

Lena visibly staggered at the question. She blinked and opened her mouth, then closed it and looked down at her plate. Brigitte immediately noticed she touched a sore spot.

“It’s ok, you don’t need to answer!” She tried, blushing embarrassed.

Lena shook her head. “No, I… I ran away when I was 13. My father was an idiot, and he really didn’t like having a daughter that liked other people’s daughters.”

“Oh my god, Lena! I’m so, so sorry!” Brigitte put a hand over her mouth, heavily impressed. “I shouldn’t have asked such thing, I--”

“It’s okay!” Lena’s eyes darted up to her. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal. My family now is way nicer than before!” She gestured to the people all around the table, smiling. “I love you all and I know you love me; That’s all I could ask for.”

“Aaaaaaw!” Hana made a heart gesture with her hands towards Lena, as she was too far to hug her.

“We really do love you.” Winston messed with Lena’s hair.

“Your parents don’t know the wonderful person they’re missing,  _ chérie.  _ ” Amélie completed.

“Their loss, because we’re going to enjoy the hell out of you.” Emily kissed her cheek. “Now, if you two lived together, you must have some embarrassing stories to tell us, Winston…!”

“ _Oh_ _no he doesn’t!”_ Lena practically squeaked.

“Tell us, tell us!” Hana and Lúcio cheered, Brigitte laughed and Lena hid her face in her hands.

Needless to say, Winston had the best stories. He told them of the time he woke up with Lena crying profusely in the living room because a documentary she was watching had just stated that from a one hundred-egg nest, only one sea turtle would survive to adulthood on average. He found out she was completely drunk as soon as she opened her mouth to say how sad the whole thing was, because tiny turtles were so cute and defenseless and she wanted to hug and protect them all. He also told the tale of how Lena made him give all the wildest excuses to three different girls she had fun with and thought she was dating them, and in the process they discovered each other’s existences and wanted Lena’s neck. In the end Lena had to call the three of them to a public place (where she wouldn’t be lynched for certain) and scold them because “ _ bloody hell, I used a sex chat not a dating one!”  _ , and since then, she avoided using those kinds of chats for anything.

He started a third story when they heard a trumpet sound, and noticed the musicians were taking their places and checking the instruments before starting to play. Then the previous conversation was completely set aside as Emily and Lúcio started chatting excitedly about what was to come and some musical technicalities the others knew only superficially.

Not long after, the band started playing a funky, very energetic ragtime song. Emily turned to face Lena with starry, needy electric blue eyes.

“Let’s go dance, please? Pretty please?”

Lena certainly didn’t expect that. The obvious first choice for her to ask this was Amélie; she kind of didn’t know what to do in face of the request.

“I can’t dance, I’m gonna embarrass you!” She sounded conflicted. “ I-- I don’t know the steps!”

“Hey, love, look at me. Is this the face of someone who gets ashamed of anything?” She wriggled her eyebrows, bearing a silly confident smile. Lena opened her mouth to answer but there was no point, really. Emily giggled. “Thought so.”

She extended a hand and Lena picked it up hesitantly - a moment later Emily was dragging her to the dance floor, waiting just a second for her to gather her feet and follow. The place was still empty, with only one other couple arriving, and that served Emily’s plan very well; not too many people to make Lena uncomfortable.

“How are you feeling today with the shaking and dizziness?” Emily asked near her ear, and smiled at the shiver she very consciously caused in her girlfriend.

“It’s good, I think?”

“We’ll be cautious.” She grabbed both Lena's hands and started pulling her back and forth, moving her to the rhythm. The song was funky but not terribly fast, so Lena was able to catch on with relative ease, despite tripping two or three times and walking around like a headless chicken for a bit. Also, after the first wave of shame, she had to admit it was very fun to dance like that. Even if they were keeping it painfully simple.

Lena eventually raised her hand to make Emily swirl and tried to kiss her at the end of it, but she totally lost the time, slipped and fell into her arms. Of course the muse laughed, kissed the top of her head and pushed her to her feet again.

“You ok there?”

“That depends, are you going to keep catching me when I fall?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“So I may be feeling very dizzy all of a sudden…!” She took some wobbly drunken steps back, giggling.

Emily got her hand and made her spin towards her, locking her in an embrace from behind. “Cold shower, then?”

“Em, no!”

From the table, Angela and Amélie watched them.

“I’m gonna need an insulin shot after this much sweetness.” Angela commented, giggling, and took a sip of her freshly-arrived whiskey glass.

_ Medical puns  _ , Amélie thought,  _ and I keep saying Lena’s jokes are bad.  _ “They surely are adorable, yes.”

“Don’t you get jealous, Amé? I mean, Emily is your girlfriend too...” Angela gave her a curious and rather innocent look. “I’m just trying to understand this thing better, please don’t take it as teasing.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, opened a smile worthy of a painting and turned to face the dance floor again, in time to see Lena trying some quick solo steps that looked like there was something wrong with her legs. “Exactly, she is my girlfriend too. Why should I be jealous? I don’t see a better person for her to date - besides me - than Lena. Look at how happy they are.”

At the moment Emily was trying to teach Lena some steps and she was failing spectacularly, but they both were laughing a lot about it.

“So if I wanted to date her…” Angela kept going.

Amélie whipped her head back towards her cousin.

“You don’t have what it takes.” She announced blatantly, looking mildly outraged and measuring Angela like she’d do to a particularly unpleasant creature.

Angela would usually feel intimidated by it, but at the moment she just burst in joyous laughter. “So you  _ are  _ jealous!”

“That’s not-- our relationship is not a mess, people don’t go in and out at will!”

“I know, I was just inquiring about the possibility of--”

“ _ Non!”  _ Amélie crossed her arms and stared. For a moment everyone turned to her, by the volume and strength of the negative, and Angela had to keep herself from laughing again.

“So Lena is a special case?” She managed to ask.

“ _ Oui.  _ And don’t you go bothering them with this conversation!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She picked up her whiskey glass and emptied it in one go, giving her cousin a playful, if a bit disbelieving look. “Why don’t you join them, by the way?”

Amélie took a moment to watch them. Surely it would be lovely to be there and tease Lena, maybe sweep her off her feet to see her reaction. It would be amazing to flirt with Emily through well placed dance steps and wandering hands. Even dancing with the two of them at once, maybe squeezing Lena between them for the amusement of her protests…

But not now, though.

“Let them have their moment. They deserve that, as well.” She smiled to her cousin and went back to watching them, fondness all over her expression, even if unknowingly.

Angela smiled back. Of course Amélie was just good friends with Lena, and thought she was a good choice for her girlfriend.  _ Of course  _ the way she stared at them both had just to do with friendship…. Yeah, she could keep telling herself that. Angela would make a personal chart of how many days it would take her to notice the real thing, just for the fun of it.

 

\--

 

It wasn’t long before Lena started feeling weird because of all the exercise and motion, and the dorky couple came back to the table. While Lena sat down, completely breathless, Emily just hugged Amélie from behind and whispered an invitation in her ear. Just like that, they were off to the dance floor again.

“She certainly doesn't lose time, huh.” Angela commented, watching her cousin and her girlfriend disappearing amongst the - now substantial amount of - other people dancing.

“Who, Emily? No she doesn’t.” Lena giggled. “But I don’t blame her. I mean, it’s Amé, right? Folks be running for miles for her!”

“That’s true.”

“Lenaaaaa help me, we gotta drag Brigitte to dance!” Hana reached out dramatically from the other side of the table.

“It’s embarrassing!” It looked like Brigitte was trying to shrink on her chair, which was pretty impossible (and not to mention funny) for someone with her stature and build.

“Fuck that,  _ Lena  _ went and did it, and everyone knows Lena’s the worst dancer ever!” Hana replied cheerfully, poking Brigitte’s cheek.

“Wow, I should be offended but like, that’s true, I can’t argue with it!” Lena took a mouthful of water. “It’s fun, you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, we’re going with you, we’ll be publicly embarrassed together!” Lúcio got up from his chair and made a little dance, his face showing an excitement Lena often saw in herself. Maybe that was why they got along so well, they were so much alike.

“Wow, look at them dancing.”

Winston didn’t mean for his voice to grab everyone’s attention, but when you have such a powerful low one you’re heard as a vibration in the chest even when you’re talking to yourself. He had his eyes locked on the dance floor, and it wasn’t difficult at all to see who he was watching - people opened a space in the middle of the room, and in it was Amélie, spinning Emily around like they were having the time of their lives. One could think they had rehearsed it, but it was, in fact, good improvisation skills acquired through years of observing Amélie, in Emily’s case, and of performing on the big stages, in Amélie’s.

The gorgeous frenchwoman wasn’t moving so much herself, Lena noticed, and she tended to use her good foot as support. It’s worth mentioning that Lena only noticed that because she knew and was concerned about her bad foot, but judging by her delighted expression, she was managing it as best as she could and, of course, her best was nothing short of awesome. You can’t have a woman so extra as Amélie and expect her skillset not to be matching.

They were beautiful to watch. Lena caught herself thinking of how fluid they were, and how joyful. It would make a good drawing.

...It would make a good drawing!

Lena searched her purse frantically for her pocket sketchbook, pencil and paper, and she made an effort to turn her chair as much towards the dance floor as she could. Making studies of their flow would be great, and they’d love to see it afterwards, for sure!

Skimming through the pages absentmindedly, Lena came across a particular set of sketches she didn’t even remember doing, but they were dated some months before, when she hadn’t had the accident yet. They showed Amélie and Emily dancing in a sequence. In black and blue dresses, respectively.

“What the…!” Lena furrowed her brow and looked back at the dancefloor, to check if the outfits really were the same.

Not only she saw that yes, they were, but she spectated the movements drawn in paper unfolding right before her eyes, as in a movie.

She had drawn that  _ months  _ before. How could that be?

“Let's goooo!” Hana was up and dragging Brigitte by the hands to dance, and Lúcio was quick to join the dragging. Brigitte was blushing and giggling nervously all the way, but her eyes were soft; she was just embarrassed, and would eventually enjoy the situation.

Lena didn't notice that loud exchange. She didn't register much more than the wild current of thoughts in her head, so she couldn't know the comically confused face she was making as she stared at the paper.

Winston noticed, though.

“Lena, what’s wrong?” She practically jumped from surprise when she heard his booming voice. He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay big guy. I was just thinking very hard here. I mean, I drew this way back…”

Her words drifted away but she turned the sketchbook for her friend to see. Angela leaned in too.

“That’s beautiful.” She offered Lena a soft smile.

“Well, that looks a lot like what they’re wearing today…” Winston picked up the sketchbook carefully, bringing it closer to his and Angela’s view.

“And how they’re dancing, yeah.” Lena completed. “I just saw them doing these exact moves!”

“And you said you drew this some time ago…?” Angela frowned.

“Exactly, but I couldn’t have known...!”

“Intriguing. It could be magic...” Winston pushed his glasses up like he did when he was deep in thought, and Lena knew he’d probably want to analyze the sketchbook, Lena and the circumstances where she drew that, among other things.  “I’d have to check, though.”

“Tomorrow, big guy.” She put a hand on his arm and nodded towards the dance floor. “Now, wanna dance?”

“Me?” He looked down to himself, as if trying to make her realize she was asking a gorilla to dance.

“Yeah you, silly! C’mon, chances are you’re better than me, even!”

He looked visibly conflicted. “Uh… But weren’t you dizzy?”

“It’s passing.” She shrugged. “I just want you to have some fun!”

“Oh! Don’t worry about me, I--”

“Lena, dear, I’ll go with him. Rest, okay?” Angela gave her an understanding smile.

She got up and offered Winston a hand, and he was too polite to refuse. Lena gave him a reassuring look and pushed him forward. “It’ll be fun!”

“Oh yeah, uh, thanks!” He replied, then hit a table as he walked, apologized and turned to look straight. Angela had a slight blush to her cheeks, and her smile was wide and fond. She was probably starting to get drunk. Well, after at least six shots, that was not only expected, but a feat that she wasn’t stoned yet.

So there Lena was, sitting alone on that big table, seeing her friends dance. Even Amélie, with her restrictions. She was happy for them, and she tried the best she could not to feel left out, but… Her left hand was still trembling slightly, and she was still dizzy. She could wait some more so she’d be okay, right…? Oh, she knew what she’d do! She’d draw all of them!

 

\--

 

When the song ended, Amélie was laughing with Emily, holding the muse in her arms. Emily had just slipped and almost fallen right at her final movements, briefly distracted by Brigitte lifting Lúcio in the air while he did a mocking ballerina impression, some distance away. It was so ridiculous she couldn’t help but burst into laughter and lose stability completely, and there Amélie was, holding her. A perfect ending, after all.

She couldn’t talk for a moment, even when Amélie asked what was going on among chuckles.  It only stopped when the clever french woman decided to kiss a point right below her earlobe, drawing out an unexpected loud moan. Apparently, laughing your ass off makes it difficult to handle other sensations as well.

It was interesting to note that Emily didn’t try to muffle it as soon as it was out, though. She just bit her lip for a long moment, eyes shut, and when she opened them again they were of a strong blue and warm brown.

“Don’t do that if you don’t want to make me sit on your face right here,  _ mon amour  _ …” The way Emily purred it made Amélie both turned on and surprised. What was she discovering right there? A kink? A peculiarity? Most importantly, the barely-keeping-herself-together face she made…!

Amélie couldn’t help but poke a bit more. “Why, that’s not a bad idea, you know.”

This time she definitely suppressed something, pressing her legs together as tight as she could. “Amé… You don’t kiss me like  _ that  _ when I just finished--”

“What an impressive display, my lady!” A man approached them, clapping enthusiastic. He wore a shirt, a vest and a fedora hat, and his eyes were dangerously smooth towards Amélie. “You dance very well, just imagine what you could do with a man…!”

They both cringed. So it was  _ that  _ horrid type, huh?

Emily opened her mouth to fire an undoubtedly sharp reply, but Amélie was quicker to answer this time. “Oh, I could do a lot of things  to a man.” Her voice was velvety. She took a step forward and played with the collar of his shirt. “Like crushing his crotch under my heel, how does it sound,  _ chéri?  _ ”

“Hey, back off!” He put his hands up, offended. “It’s a compliment, just take it!”

“The image of squashed testicles is not to your liking?” She raised an eyebrow and put a hand on her chin, with an expression of cynical curiosity in that perfect face.

Emily passed a hand behind her neck, doing her best to look curious as well. “Maybe he’d better have them fried? I heard it’s an exotic delicacy in some places…”

“Stop that…!” The man took a couple of steps back, looking disgusted.

“Maybe grated. Yeah, grated is a good option!”

“Fuck, crazy bitches!” He shouted and turned his back to them, doing everything to get out of view quickly.

“Try them peeled and brined!” Emily still shouted before he disappeared, giggling.

Upon turning to face Amélie again, she was greeted with a kiss that quickly grew passionate and borderline vulgar, where the only thing preventing Amélie from sweeping the muse off of her feet was the fact that she didn’t know for sure she could hold her without pressuring her foot too much, after all the dancing.

They only parted for air, and Emily was quick to tell her, lips almost touching, eyes locked on hers: “Raw me now, love, right now…!”

Okay, that was really unexpected. Especially because she looked very serious about it.

“Lena will kill me, you know it.” Amélie took a quick glance at their table and found Lena staring at them with what looked like the blushing of the century, but it was difficult to discern because of the distance and the dim light.

“Let’s go fuck her too, then!” She replied, hungrily, and Amélie felt yet another wave of heat traveling down to her center, and she was suddenly very aware that a part of her brain was just howling in awe at that suggestion, and it confused her. It was  _ Lena,  _ she shouldn’t consider bringing her along this enjoyable…!

“She  _ can’t  _ , Emily. It’s unfair to her.” Amélie put a finger over her lips, but as soon as Emily tried to lick it, she pulled back and grabbed her face with both hands, forcing her to focus. “Go wash your face with a lot of cold water, I’ll go back to the table. I need to rest a bit, okay?”

Emily sighed and nodded, but then opened a soft smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

\--

Doctor Evans woke up startled by the buzzing cell phone. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of where he was and what was going on, and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He had been reading a wonderful novel on his bed, when did he doze off…?

It didn’t really matter, he had to find his phone. He looked around and to the side table, and there it was, lit up, slowly moving towards the edge. The light level on the screen bothered him a bit, but he soon got used to it and saw the number calling: one of his patients. They usually didn’t call unless it was ana emergency, and certainly not at that time. What could’ve happened?

“Hello?”

The noise of a crowded place greet him, followed by a female voice.

_ “Hi, doctor Evans?” _

“Yeah, this is him.”

_ “This is Lena! Lena Oxton! How are you doing? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything, but…” _

Lena Oxton? It took him a second, but he remembered her. A sad case, a girl with so much life to live yet. “No, no, I was just… ahem… reading. I’m fine, and you?”

_ “Oh, I’ve been feeling good! That’s why I called, actually. You see, I kinda have a real urgent doubt…” _

The clear sound of someone asking “ _ hey Lena, what are you doing…?”  _ followed by her rushed “  _ in a sec!”  _ made him raise an eyebrow. “Well, ask away...”

It couldn’t hurt, could it?

_ “Well doc, I’m really,  _ really  _ okay these days and I was wondering if, you know, I could… well…” _

“Yes...?”

_ “I want to make love to my girlfriend, please tell me I’m allowed, please!” _

She said it so fast and high pitched he barely understood half of it. Someone on the other side scoffed and started laughing loudly.

“Sorry? There’s a lot of noise, Lena, I couldn’t hear you well!”

_ “I… I want to have sex, doc. Can I? Please?” _

Oh.

“Well, I suppose… You’ve been well on the exams and tests, if I remember well. It’s been a while already, so… I don’t see why not.” When she started cheering on the other side, he decided to add some things. She was young and impulsive, after all. “But be careful! If you start feeling dizzy or your limbs start shaking too much,  _ stop it.  _ Go easy overall. And absolutely don’t exert pressure on your head, understood?”

_ “Yeah, yeah! Thank you so much!” _

She sounded so happy he couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Be  _ safe,  _ Lena!”

_ “I’ll be, don’t worry. Cheers, doc!” _

She hung up as suddenly as her call, and doctor Evans chuckled. Well, at least no one was dying this time. Or had something shoved upon their arse… He never really understood how he got that call, being a neurologist. Maybe it was that x-ray technician pulling a prank on him…?

Without realizing, he started dozing off again, thinking of x-rays and weird things up arseholes.

\--

 

“I can’t believe you just called your doctor to see if you could have sex!” Amélie couldn’t stop giggling, and ended up putting down the glass of water she'd been holding near her mouth for a while. That was how accidents happened, and she knew better than them.

“Who  _ cares,  _ I’m allowed!” Lena shouted, then realized something and turned to Amélie with a playful stare. “It’s your fault by the way, you go making out in front of everybody and you don’t expect me to go crazy, love? Really?”

Amélie stared back, and with the calmest mask she dropped the bomb: “Well, Emily begged me to raw her there, but I declined because of your state. What do we do about it now,  _ chérie?  _ ”

“ _ WHAT?!” _

“What what?” Hana, Brigitte and Lúcio were all sitting down again, as if on cue. Brilliant. Lena didn’t know if she wanted to explain that, really.

“So, what do we do, Lena? Should we do it, should we not do it, should we bring you along…?” Amélie hummed, leaning her head on her hand with a wicked smile.

“I… I… Where is she right now?”

“Who?”

Emily was right by her side all of a sudden, and judging by the general confusion her presence seemed to cause, she had probably just phased there. Lena turned to her with a frown, getting up to be as much on her level as she could.

“So you go on offering to fuck people on the dance floor, love?” She had a mildly exasperated tone that made Emily worry, not knowing if it was serious or not.

Hana exchanged a look with Brigitte and Lúcio, and the three of them leaned forward to see it better. That would be good.

“Not just anyone--”

“Where do I sign up for it?” Lena opened a huge smile. Emily put a hand on her forehead and let go of air she didn’t even notice she was holding.

“Oh darling, you startled me!” She opened a relieved smile. “I’ll send the list over when you’re able to do it.”

“Well luv, you better gimme this thing right now, because I’m officially cleared!” She threw her arms in the air and then around Emily’s neck”

Emily tilted her head towards Amélie. “Is that true?”

“Oi, don’t doubt my wor--”

“Yes it is,  _ chérie  _ . She called her doctor to ask.” Amélie chuckled.

Emily turned back to Lena, and her smile was suddenly very feline. “I had to make sure you were not trying to cross me, darling. But now…” She grabbed Lena by the suspenders and pulled her closer, drawing a small yelp from her.

“Oh I knew I liked this outfit!” She chirped to Amélie before giving in to a kiss.

“You two should get a room” Amélie replied, chuckling.

“Only because I have to take it easier.” Lena wriggled her eyebrows. “And in time.”

“So you have ideas?” Emily asked.

“Always do, luv.” She chuckled “We should call a cab.”

“I’m on it.” Amélie sing-sang from her seat. “It’ll be here shortly.”

Brigitte, who still watched the scene with Lúcio and Hana, frowned and whispered to her idol-turned-friend-not-yet-girlfriend. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought Amélie wasn’t dating Lena too?”

Hana was taking a sip of her strawberry milkshake, and stopped it to answer. “She’s not...”

“So why is she this caring and affectionate…?”

 

“...yet, I bet.” She winked.

Brigitte stopped and stared at her, realization dawning on her. Then she opened a huge smile. “Aaaaaah!” Lúcio laughed at her cluelessness.

As Lena and Emily bid farewell (Emily took quite some time with some very peculiar goodbyes to Amélie) and headed to the exit, no one really paid attention to the fact that Winston and Angela were still on the dancefloor, and a very peculiar thing was happening: the gorilla turned out to be a very capable dancer, and everyone wanted to have a chance to dance and take photos with him, Angela coordinated things and he was having a blast as a kind of momentary celebrity.

  
  


\--

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20! Wooooo! Wow, that's probably the longest thing I've ever written, so thanks a lot you people who read this silly little thing, the absolutely awesome betas for correcting my vastly mistakes on prepositions (English is hard sometimes!)Blizzard for OW and the trio of the most awesome dorks for being so captivating I just had to write them =3
> 
> [Here](http://darksideone.tumblr.com/post/178299435910/a-scene-from-my-fic-terpsichore-you-can-read-it) is the link for a pic of them in their killer clothes, it took me more than I expected because I kinda got excited and did a full piece instead of a sketch,,, XD
> 
> I think that's it for today, folks!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is entirely about lovemaking. Needless to say, it's highly NSFW. If you don't feel comfortable or don't want to read about it, don't worry - no groundbreaking plot events on this one, just me, writing lewd things. 
> 
> Proper story resumes next chapter.

Turns out Lena really had plans.  A hand wandering down Emily’s thigh and a whisper on the base of her ear were a good start.

“So you want to be fucked hard in front of everyone, huh?”

They had just given the cab driver Lena’s address, and were now sitting comfortably in the backseat, waiting to get home. 

Emily sideeyed her.

“That happens when you’ve just danced and your girl comes and kisses a sensitive spot, you know...” 

“Like this?” Lena pressed a kiss a bit below Emily’s ear, and let her teeth drag over the skin lightly before kissing again. Her reward was feeling the ginger sucking the air hard and keeping it there, surprised with her move.

“...Yeah. Just like that.” Emily sighed joyfully, glancing down at Lena. “But I had just absorbed a lot of energy and it made me… Oversensitive.”

Lena raised her eyebrows, considering the information. “Is that a good or bad thing? I’d like to keep it in mind.”

“So good it was on the edge of not being anymore.”

“So if I make you full of energy and start” She made a small trail of kisses down her neck “doing” and to her collarbone “this?”

Emily grabbed one of her suspenders and pulled her back down towards her neck when she made a motion to get away.

“It may be too much, I may manage it with some difficulty or I may pounce and take you right there, who knows.” She snorted.

“Right now, what does it do?”

“ _ Good.  _ Keep at it.” Emily drove some fingers up Lena’s neck and scalp, drawing a low approving moan from her. 

Not only that, but it reminded Lena of Doctor Evans’ words. It was best to share them. “Doc told me to not to put my head under too much pressure, so be gentle with the grabbing, okay?”

“Sure thing. It’s a pity, though.” She made a point of scratching, and Lena practically purred for her, moving to sit with a shoulder leaning on the seat and the rest of her body leaning towards the muse.

“Not that bad, luv. You have a lot of other places to grab. But guess what I’m thinking?”

“Pray tell.”

The wandering hand Lena had on Emily’s thigh made its way up and to the inner part of it, pressing and squeezing, and it was just visible how the muse tensed up when it reached her dress and just kept dragging it up along.

“How quiet can you be right now.”

Emily just had time for her eyes to dart to the clueless cab driver before Lena kissed her and pressed the length of two fingers against her center. Even with the panties in the way Lena could feel the humidity there and the shiver going up her lover’s body, and the reaction was exactly what she intended. She even bit Emily's lip for a moment, just to tease.

When they parted and Emily was about to say something witty, undoubtedly, Lena started moving those fingers from side to side. Emily's eyes went wide as plates for a second, then they rolled up, she visibly clenched her teeth and let herself fall back on the seat.

She spoke only when she got a bit more used to the motion. “So that’s how it’ll be?”

Lena showed her a huge smug smile and changed the motion to a circling one, moving dangerously towards her clit. 

Even then, Emily wouldn’t just give her the satisfaction of giving in and looking like she wanted it. No, that was not how things worked.

“You’ll have to try harder.” She whispered to Lena with a defiant tone and a cynical smile.

“Try what, luv?” Lena replied, faking innocence. “We’re just two very good friends sitting in a cab, waiting to get home…”

After that she reached her clit, and it became very,  _ very _ difficult for the muse to stay still and placid. Lena reveled in it; she lowered her pace to something slow, way slower,  _ painfully slow _ , just to burst into movement again and make Emily curse under her breath. Low moans slipped from her lips once or twice, and Lena herself masked them with some coughing. She loved seeing Emily’s terrified and at the same time very lustful expression at both occasions.

She was so busy admiring the effects she was causing that she didn’t pay much attention to anything else, but Emily did. She noticed how the driver adjusted the rearview mirror in a slightly strange angle, given that they’d been driving well with it before. He said or did nothing else, thankfully, and she ended up enjoying the possible extra attention, because she was a dirty, dirty person like that.

The trip home felt too short and too long at the same time. When they finally arrived, Lena was the one to pay the driver, because Emily was too red and flustered for it. 

As soon as the car was on its way down the street, the muse was dragging Lena up the steps and into the building by the suspenders. When they closed the front door and locked it, they were pushing each other against the wall, kissing wildly, pressing their bodies like they needed the friction to survive. Getting to the stairs was a very hard task, considering the zigzagging pattern of making out here, pushing to the other wall there, occasionally hitting a door (and Emily would giggle and ask if it wasn’t better to knock before slamming the thing down like that) and repeat.

Lena used the fact that she couldn’t run up the stairs to her advantage, asking for help to climb them. When they reached her floor she locked Emily between her arms on the wall, right by the only window in the corridor.

“And you say I’m devious.” The muse gasped, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck more to those wonderful kisses…

“You are.” Lena whispered against her skin, taking a nib at her earlobe. “You need to learn your place, luv.”

“And  _ you _ are going to make me?” Her voice faltered a bit, but she couldn’t help it. A throaty laugh followed. “I’m surely remaining like this for a w--  _ Uungh!” _

That hand teasing over her panties again. She jerked her head up and bit her lip _. Dammit, Lena. _

“What’s that, love?” She asked adorably, but her stare was predatory.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh I intend to!” She giggled. “Just get a hold of yourself, okay? I'm not strong enough to hold you yet.”

Emily raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and Lena promptly answered by slowly dropping to her knees in front of her. The temperature there seemingly raised 10 degrees as realization struck. 

“So that’s the kind of place you take your girls to, huh.” She could barely hide the smile.

“I’ve shagged a girl in a church once, luv.” She made a pause, for effect, tilting her head. “This is nothing.”

That said, Lena got under Emily’s dress and started kissing the inner side of her thighs, proceeding to remove her panties deliberately slowly. Emily, meanwhile didn’t know if she cursed, moaned or simply let herself down just a bit and rode Lena’s face, because clearly she had to take matters in her own hands or she’d be teased forever.

“So soaked.” Lena chuckled, making a point of saying it near enough Emily’s center that the muse felt her breath there and shivered whole.

“D-did you expect to find the sahara down there, darling?” Emily rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fake the anticipation anxiety in her voice. It made Lena even more smug - all of that, and just for her.

“Keep talking, you’ll be a lovely puddle when I finish with you.” Lena hummed.

Emily snorted. “That’s bold.”

Bold, indeed. Bold could be Lena’s middle name. Bold was the way she smiled, knowingly, and took a broad swipe with her tongue over Emily’s folds, tasting her wetness. Once, twice, noticing the gasps and tension it caused. Then she started the work properly, licking in a quick pace, noticing where and how she got the most reactions and sticking with those.

Emily almost immediately gripped at the window sill, not used to how strong the waves of lust coursing down her body were. It was a human thing, and by the Nine, she loved being in human form at the moment. She wanted to grab Lena by the hair and force her face more into her, but she wouldn’t risk doing it. She opened her legs further, instead.

In response, Lena stopped just to tease her. “Oh? Someone is liking it?”

“No, darling, I’m trying to make you do it right.” She scoffed, but smiled.

_ Of course… _ Lena chuckled. She moved her mouth to a spot right above Emily’s clit and made circles with the tip of her tongue on it before taking that whole area in her mouth and sucking avidly. The muse jerked back and moaned loudly, her knees shaking for a moment, and as Lena kept at it she moaned more and louder. That was, until Lena stopped and started laughing down there, with absolutely no reason for it.

“You want to wake up the whole building and have them find us, luv?”

_ Oh for fuck’s sake. _

“I’m gonna disappear and let you explain alone if you don’t keep it going  _ right now! _ ” She screeched.

“What’s the magical word?”

“ _ Murder!” _

They heard someone messing with the lock on a flat and the muse immediately phased out, Leaving Lena perplexed for a second before she got up and ran to her own flat. She couldn’t open it in time, but at least she faked she had just gotten there and had nothing to do with the lewd sounds.

She was hiding her face, of course, because the lower part of it was shining with slickness.

“What the fuck was that?!” An annoyed neighbor Lena recognized by the voice as Mr. Hempton, asked. “It sounded like people…”

“Were shagging here on the corridor, right? It’s crazy! I can swear I heard it too!” Lena replied, sounding curious, but in fact blushing so hard even her ears were red. “Well, good night Mr. Hempton!”

She closed the door behind her with haste, not even waiting for the neighbor’s response. She sighed, locked it, and suddenly she had a body pressing her against the door and lips lightly touching her ear.

“Hello again, darling. How’s putting me in my place going for you?”

Lena took a glance at Emily there, smiled and licked her lips clean of her slickness. “Salty.”

Emily couldn’t help but laugh at that, and Lena used the opportunity to slip from her grasp and kiss her - the muse ended up noticing that she was, indeed, salty - pushing them towards the bedroom slowly. It wasn’t a problem, as they were determined in exploring each other’s body to find the best ways to take off their clothes, meanwhile.

When they finally fell down on the bed Emily was completely naked and Lena wore partially open pants, and she made a quick work of straddling Emily’s hips and holding her arms at the sides of her head. 

“Do you feel strong now, holding me like that?” The muse raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Because you should know I’m totally letting you.”

“Are you, now?” Lena put a little more pressure on her grip, holding her arms firmer against the mattress. “So why don’t you set yourself free without those magic tricks of yours?”

“What will I gain If I do?”

“I’ll be yours to do whatever you want.”

Emily opened a wicked smile, and in the next second she was taking an impulse up to kiss Lena, moving her arms like crazy to set herself free. It didn’t work as intended, because instead of distracting the woman, it brought her whole body down over hers, causing a wonderful friction as they rubbed against each other, ‘fighting’ for dominance. At some point Emily bit Lena’s shoulder and she answered by growling a  _ “fuck!” _ and letting go of her grip on one of her arms to shove her back into the mattress and bury her face into her breasts, licking around until she got to a firm nipple, teasing it plentifully with the tip of her tongue.

Emily would’ve tried to get away from it, but there were two very good points as to why she didn’t: first and more important, she noticed Lena was doing her best, but she was tired from before and starting to shake quite perceptively. She wouldn’t push her beyond her limits like that. Reason two: she didn’t really want to get out of that touch. If she admitted, also, there was a third reason: She wasn’t all that strong, in the end. She could get herself free, but what would be the fun in exhausting herself like that, and doing the same to her girl?

...Especially when Lena started sucking.  _ Oh god, _ She just took her free hand and grabbed her nape, urging her down on her more, moaning at every small motion.

Lena noticed she gave up. She stopped doing her thing to tilt her head towards the muse with a smug smile. “Got’cha.” And she went back to it.

Thing was, the hand she was currently using to hold her down, that occasionally pinched her waist and pressed her tummy, it went down to tease at her clit briefly, causing the moans to get louder again.

“Oh you-- _ asshole! _ ” Emily screeched, arching her back.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Lena chuckled, dragging her teeth lightly at her nipple. “Want this asshole inside you, luv?”

“Do I… Really have to--  _ uuunf!” _

“Yup! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

“ _ Fuck y--- AAAH--” _

_ “...Sooooo?”  _

_ “ _ By the  _ nine-- AH-- yes,  _ YES,  _ please…! “ _

Without a word Lena took two fingers down, teasing at her entrance for a moment, and started inserting them slowly. Emily immediately arched her back and sunk her nails into Lena’s back, gripping her tight. That was sudden and very strong, so Lena pulled back and stared at her, worried.

“Em, what’s wrong?”

She had her eyes shut tight, and her words were coarse when she spoke. “I, uh… not used to it.”

“Has it been a while, do you need me to slow down?” Lena asked, worried, letting go of her grip.

“No, it’s… Oh, you’ll laugh.” She sighed, letting herself fall back on the mattress. “I never had a body, Lena. I never… Did it… Like this.”

Thinking about it, it was quite obvious: She had sensory overloads from time to time, got surprised by some trivial things like food, and sometimes she didn’t know exactly if she was feeling something physically or emotionally. Of course she wouldn’t have had sex before. It was wondrous that she had been taking all the making out that well, to be honest.... 

“Oh! Oh, luv…!” Lena immediately pulled herself up until she was staring at Emily on the same level, her eyes full of fondness, her smile, soft. “You could’ve told me!”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, to be honest. It’s silly, but… I guess I was embarrassed?” 

By the derisive laughter she let out, she pretty much still was.

“You don’t have to be all strong and assertive all the time, you know.” Lena took some hair out of the way of her eyes, and poked her nose with hers. “The only thing I’d do was to be more careful and ask you about what you’d like or not, this sort of thing. I love you, silly. Even if you didn’t like sex at all, it wouldn’t change anything for me.”

Emily didn’t answer right away. She just stood there for a second, staring at Lena with a lovestruck expression, and the words that followed were but a whisper in her smile. “By the Nine, I love so much.”

Then she brought her in for a gentle kiss. She felt loved, safe and warm inside, and she knew that regardless of the dubiousness of her choices and the troubles they’d been bringing her, she wouldn’t do anything differently. Not when she had met such a wonderful woman because of them.

“So” Lena resumed conversation afterwards. “Do you want to keep going, or…”

“You were doing a wonderful job of making a puddle out of me, I’d hate to see all that work go to waste.” She winked.

Lena nodded. “You tell me when it’s too much, then.” 

She went back down between her thighs and started licking her folds, earning a moan of approval. It was brief, though, just to set the mood. She slipped a finger inside slowly, cautiously, and watched for reactions; Emily visibly tensed up, but it was way less than before. Still, she waited for some sort of confirmation.

“It’s okay, go on.” Emily sighed, breathing heavily.

And she did. She put it all the way in, waited for Emily to adjust to it and started thrusting, getting increasingly faster, drawing timid moans and gasps…

 

At first. 

 

It wasn’t long before she was pushing her finger in full force and her girl was twitching and turning, asking her for more. She gave more. Emily gripped on the sheets like her life depended on it, bucked her hips and it still wasn’t enough.

“ _ More!” _ She half moaned, half roared, and Lena snorted.

“Aye aye, cap! One finger more, then?”

Emily nodded, quite frantically.

Lena kissed her inner thigh. “Okay.”

She managed to take one finger out and get both in at the same time by small, even thrusts, with some pauses for Emily to catch herself and get used to the sudden stretch. When it was all in, the muse had brought her up and was grabbing at her back so hard her nails hurt a bit, but Lena kinda liked the sensation.

“You good, luv?” She asked, her voice a bit muffled by the fact she had her face shoved against her breasts. Not that she was complaining.

“I… think so, yeah.”

Lena looked up at her and winked. “Try not to squeeze me to death, alright?”

And she started thrusting. 

It was like a lot, lot of things were happening at once inside Emily. It hurt at first but it wasn’t unpleasant at all, she soon was used to it and the pressure. They found a good rhythm and stuck with it, Emily bucking her hips for the friction, Lena hitting her with crooked fingers again and again and again, loving every jerk of her girl’s body, every delightful moan she let out, each time higher-pitched, each time more  _ gone. _ How she loved that. Every time, seeing girls losing themselves to her touch, hearing their screams and sighs of pleasure, getting them ruined and satisfied, that was such a turn on to Lena - and she had  _ Emily _ now. She had her thighs to kiss, her breasts to suck, her lips to bite… Her urgent voice screaming for her. She could very well be dreaming again, but her dreams were never this real, or good.

Reality was so very sweet to Lena Oxton at the moment. She might as well share the generous act, right? Especially because from the one step short of desperate pace they were going, the muse would come soon. Then Lena thought  _ “Hell, why not?” _ and started licking at her nub again. 

That was when Emily really lost it. Her eyes rolled back, her spine was suddenly struck by lightning, everything was so warm - the waves of warmth! It was  _ good, IT WAS GOOD, _ and she was suddenly roaring and moaning and crying out for Lena and it felt like everything was melting in pleasure as she rocked back and forth, lost to some primal urge, so much pleasure it felt like she was fluttering out of her body with that British dork she loved so much and--

 

And it was her, melting, floating in the space right above the bed.

_ Crap. _

 

She had just phased out of the physical realm in a lapse. 

_ Crap crap crap crap crap! _

 

Emily regained control and fell down on the bed as a physical being, the aftermath of her orgasm still sending waves up her body, ragged breath and remaining moans going out of her absurdly dry lips.

Lena looked at her dumbfounded, two sticky fingers in the air. “You just disappeared there, luv!”

“I... know.” the muse nodded.

Lena crawled up and to her side, blinking a few times. “You okay?”

She barely gave her a thumbs up. Lena opened a silly smile and ruffled her own hair with her clean hand. “Blimey, you scared me! I… Imagine Amé’s face when I tell her I shagged you out of existence!”

“It certainly was an out of this world experience…”

They looked at each other and bursted into laughter.

“....Dork.” Emily wrapped Lena in her arms and pulled her in for an embrace.

“So are you, you devious woman!” She giggled. “I love you, Em.”

“I love you too. So much…”

“Boy, I should really go clean this!” Lena gestured towards her fingers. And face. And chest, where some of the fluid had dropped.

“Noooooo, stay!”

“It'll be quick, promise! Do you want some water?

“I just want you here to cuddle, dammit, you better fly.”

“I'll do my best!”

Emily let Lena go reluctantly and watched as she walked to the bathroom like she was a bit dizzy and tired. Which was exactly how she was feeling, and also shaking a bit, but she knew resting would help with it. 

By the time Lena cleaned herself and went back to the bedroom, she found Emily sleeping peacefully, holding the pillow as she waited for her to come back. Her eyes immediately softened. Damn, she loved that woman. There was no hypothetical scenery where she wasn't the most beautiful thing Lena ever laid her eyes upon, and she wasn't just talking about appearances.

She crawled back to bed as quietly as she could - which was a feat in and of itself, considering it was Lena we're talking about - picked up the blanket, covered them both and made herself comfortable, laying with her head on Emily's chest. 

The womanizer she had been some years before would've been terrorized, but there was nothing else in the world Lena could ask for at that moment. There, she had found a weird, quite magical, definitely unexpected but proper, home.


	22. Chapter 22

It was all so comfortable and warm. She felt safe. Happy. Everything was just the best, she didn’t remember when things felt this good.

Then a buzzing and some loud sound started seeping into her drowsy state. Awfully annoying. What the fuck was that…?

“....Waaah... ?” She grunted, moving a bit on the mattress.

The sound and the buzzing only increased.

“No...Turn it… Ooooooff…!” She shook her arm mindlessly to whatever direction she thought the noise was coming from, but the movement was lazy and powerless. When she let her arm fall, she hit something hard…

“Ow!” Lena flinched and brushed Emily’s hand out of her face. “Em!”

“....Noise…!” Emily grabbed the pillow and hid her head under it, groaning.

Lena pouted, but she took her phone from the side table and turned off the alarm. “It’s an alarm for my meds, sorry about that.”

There was no answer, but even then Lena kept looking at that silhouette partially covered by a blanket and a pillow, and smiling. God, her girl was so beautiful. And she was such a dork in love.

Lena ran a finger through the freckles in Emily’s shoulder.“I’m gonna get a glass of water. Go back to sleep, luv. I’ll be here shortly.”

The muse started grunting something in response, but then she suddenly stopped and took the pillow out of her face, staring at Lena with eyes wide as plates. “I slept?!”

“Well… Yeah?” Lena chuckled. “It’s morning!”

She jerked up and sat, looking at her bare chest, then grabbing at her arms, shoulders and neck before scoffing. “I slept!”

Lena tilted her head to the side a bit, blinking. “Yes you did. Why is this a big deal, Em?”

Emily started laughing alone. “Because I don’t sleep!” and she threw herself on top of Lena, who was still laying down.

“Ever?”

“Ever!”

“Blimey!” Lena’s jaw fell, and that only made Emily giggle more and kiss her all over her face. “B-but how does that work? You don’t get tired or--”

“It’s a bit different. Go take your meds and I’ll tell you.” She rolled to the side and left Lena free to get up. “Oh, I’m so sore…!”

Lena chuckled as she got up, naked and shameless. “Is this a complaint?”

“More like a compliment, darling.” Emily replied.

“Looks like someone learnt their place, huh!” Lena sing-sang as she disappeared through the bathroom door.

For a moment, everything was quiet and peaceful. Emily sighed, satisfied with herself, and stopped a bit to acknowledge her body and what it felt like, the little sensations and changes that lingered from the night before... The memories of it sent waves down her center and she half moaned, her mind going _“Well Emily, aren’t you greedy - Lena didn’t even have her turn yet!”._

Thoughts of fucking that woman right on those sheets followed, not helping her keep the lust in check at all. Then Lena went out of the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, completely unaware of the muse practically eating her with her eyes.

_At least go wash your face, go to the bathro-- oh by the Nine, I sound so human right now!_

She laughed at that. The assholes who kept complaining she was thinking herself part of the physical realm could rejoice, because right now that was pretty much what happened, and she didn’t care a bit.

“Whine as you want, folks, you won’t have me leave this place today.” Emily smirked and got up, going to take a shower. There was no one there at that particular moment, but her fellow muses would know eventually. They always did. “Go fuck somebody to pass the time.”

She knew they probably wouldn’t even consider the advice, taking it as offense, but that was exactly what she was going to do to Lena as soon as she was back in the bedroom. So she took her bath and waited...

Except when Lena came back, she not only had taken her meds, but she brought breakfast and the brightest of smiles with her.

“I thought you’d be hungry!” She giggled as she closed the door with a kick.

When she turned, Emily was looking at her with a lovestruck expression, complete with a hand on her chin and sparks in her eyes. It made Lena stop and blink for a moment, embarrassed even.

“You’re okay there, luv…?”

“No, you just-- How can I deal with you being the loveliest thing on Earth?” Emily pulled her wet hair to a side, letting it cascade down her left shoulder. “Come here, I have a mighty need to spoil you.”

Lena giggled and blushed, putting the tray on the bed before joining her girlfriend. “I’d like that.”

Emily kissed her cheek and started running fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Lena slowly slipped down and curled up as much as she could on Emily’s lap, just like a cat. That position wasn’t that good for eating, but in life you had to make the tough choices. Emily, meanwhile, couldn’t help but think that it was pretty crazy how a person could make her go from relaxed to horny to comfortable and happy in a spam of an hour, without even noticing it. She shrugged at her own thoughts. That was love after all, it made people do crazy stuff. She, more than anyone, knew that.

The terms on which she was allowed to come to the physical realm came to mind, and the price she had to pay. She smiled. It was not the time to dwell on that. She’d rather focus on the rather numerous wonderful things she had found because she came, like the girl in her arms.

\--  


“How are you not wasted after all you drank yesterday?”

Angela looked up from the medical papers she was analyzing on the couch and gave Amélie a playful smile. Baguette was sleeping on her lap, all curled up.

“At this point, life itself has given up on giving me hangovers.” She said, simply, and went back to her reading.

“I don’t know if I should be amused or terrified, Angela.” Amélie leaned on the back of the couch and sook a sip from her coffee. The mug was one of Angela’s favourites, bearing “ _cup of coffee - doctor’s orders!_ ” written on it.

“Be both, that’s me all the time.” She shrugged. “How are you doing today?”

“Good, why do you ask?”

Again, Angela looked up from her papers. “You danced a good deal yesterday. I thought you’d be complaining of pain.”

“Ah, _oui._ ” She took another sip. “It hurt when we got home, but I applied an ointment before going to sleep. Today it’s a bit uncomfortable and I’m limping more, but otherwise, it’s fine.”

“So physio is doing miracles, isn’t it?” Angela opened a wide, proud smile.

Amélie stopped, surprised. She hadn’t taken the time to ponder about that - honestly, she didn't even think about her injury when Emily asked her to dance, it just felt natural. Thinking about it at the moment, though, she saw that  she worked her foot a lot, and just once or twice it gave her real trouble to move. The first time she made a ballet demonstration for Lena, months ago, she could barely do some simple stuff without it hurting. Things changed a lot… They were better now.

 _Gerard would be proud,_ a voice in her mind said. Amélie smiled gingerly, something unusual for her, and stared at her coffee.

 _I guess he would._  


\--  


Hana was still fast asleep when Brigitte woke up. The night before she had suggested for the girl to go sleep on her house because it was closer to the jazz bar - “I have so many brothers and sisters, my parents won’t even complain about the sudden appearance there!”, Brigitte chirped - but Hana almost never slept out. Brigitte went to her house instead, and Hana’s parents happily arranged a mattress for her to sleep by Hana’s bed. They were nice people, and Brigitte felt like they’d be fun to talk to.

Of course, being two nerds, the girls wouldn’t just sleep. As soon as they closed and locked the door, took showers and changed clothes, they engaged on a _Mario Kart_ competition that Hana won every race, but it was fun nonetheless because Brigitte was less interested in winning than in wreaking havoc and making fun comments about the race and characters.  They laughed and joked for a while, but they were tired and it soon caught up to them.

That was when it happened. Hana climbed on the bed, and before Brigitte could lay down on hers she gave her a good night kiss that brushed the corner of her lips. It sent sparks down her spine, made her taut and utterly confused her. Was it intentional? Did Hana want something with her - a fan? What was going on?

It took some time for Brigitte to sleep that night. At the moment, awoke before the girl, she relived that moment in her head and the fog of confusion didn’t dissipate. She was sleeping in the same room as a person she admired as an ace gamer and adored as a friend. She always had it very clear in her mind that the crush she had for her idol was real, and she couldn’t let it spoil the real relationship she had with Hana, but now… She didn’t know if it was still a celebrity crush or she was falling for the person, the friend Hana Song. That almost kiss made her long for the real thing in a way she didn’t think before.

But would Hana be interested? Did she even like girls? She looked very enthusiastic with Lúcio…

Brigitte groaned and hid her face in her hands. That was torture. How people stood that?!

Knocks on the door dispersed her thoughts.

 _“Girls, are you awake? Breakfast is ready!”_ Hana’s mother said from the other side of the door.

“Okay, thanks mom....!” Hana grunted back from below the blanket.

For a moment, everything was silent. Then Hana sat up, still all covered by her shocking pink blanket, and yawned.

“Hana…?” Brigitte called, sitting herself.

“Yeah?”

“You have a blanket over you”

“I know.” She yawned again.

They both stood in silence for a moment, then Brigitte giggled. Hana was adorable!

“So, are we going to have breakfast? I’m starving!” As if on cue, Brigittes stomach started growling.

Hana finally took the blanket out of her, showing a bad case of bed hair that Brigitte made a poor job of hiding she loved. “What are you staring at with this silly face, Bri?” Hana chuckled.

“N-nothing, nothing!” Brigitte immediately averted gaze, feeling her cheeks burn. _Great, you useless lesbian!_

“Oh, you’re blushing!” Hana tilted her head and approached, sitting closer to the edge of the bed.

 _Damn!_ “Blushing? Me? Hahaha don’t know why you-- I’m not!”

“Were you staring at me, Brigitte?” There was amusement and a bit of teasing in her tone, and Brigitte feared looking up and meeting her playful eyes. She wouldn’t be able to hide her crush, keep her dignity, or do anything, really. She was this much of a mess.

“N-no, I…!”

Hana silenced with a finger over her lips, and then raised her chin with the same one. It was impossible not to stare at those warm brown eyes like that. Or the smirk.  Brigitte was on the verge of gay panic there.

“Omg, It’s okay, silly.” Hana chuckled. “I’ve been staring at you too.”

It was delightful for Hana to watch the whole transition in Brigitte’s demeanor as she realized what her words meant. Those big, brown eyes going wide in surprise, how he smile was wide and genuine.

She pulled her in for a kiss.

Well, it seemed like Brigitte’s assumptions were wrong, after all. She was never so happy they were.  


\--  


Lúcio was finishing a jam session with the rest of the musicians he was going to perform with throughout Europe when his phone buzzed.

 

**Hana**

 

_You were right, Lúcio!_

_I did as you told and guess what?_

_[Attached picture]_

_11:31am_

  


The attached picture was one of Brigitte trying to take a selfie of them while Hana kissed her lips, and her face was adorably flustered.

Lúcio cheered out loud. “Oooh boy, I knew it!”

 

_Atta girl! Do you want me to drop a mixtape_

_for your wedding by your house later?_

_11:34am_

_Omg NO!_

_My parents can't dream about that, frogboi! D=_

_11:35am_

_Don't they know you're bi? =O_

_11:36am_

 

_No… We don't talk a lot about this stuff._

_I mean, I guess they still hope I marry some_

_random korean doctor? I'm afraid to ask_

_11:37am_

 

_Oh no, that sucks!_

_11:38am_

 

_Press F to pay respects u.u_

_11:39am_

 

_F_

_11:39am_

 

_But I'm very happy for u and Brigitte!_

_11:39am_

 

_Thanks a lot ;D_

_11:40pm_

 

Lúcio smiled. He knew Hana the night before but she was such a nice girl, he was happy it had gone well between her and Brigitte. Honestly, he wouldn't mind being crushed by those thick arms of Brigitte's too, so he totally got why she had fallen so hard for her.

Before he could dwell on the news, though, his phone buzzed with messages from someone else.

  


**Lena**

 

_Hi Lúcio! Here's Emily!_

_Lena asked me to message you because at the moment_

_she's quite incoherent, but she wanted to boast anyway_

_Something about being so happy she just had to tell you…_

_11:40pm_

 

_So, she said and here I quote_

_“EM JUST SHAGGED ME_

_LIFE IS GOOD_

_I CAN'T GET UP_

_I LOVE THIS WOMAN”_

_11:41pm_

 

_She's just so cute, isn't she?_

_11:42pm_

 

_Wow!_

_Leave a bit of my friend alive for us, haha!_

_11:42pm_

 

_(Seriously though, she'll just keep going until she's wrecked_

_if you let her, please take care of her)_

_11:43pm_

 

_Oh I know, don't worry. She took her meds and she's shaking_

_a bit on the legs right now, but that has nothing to_

_do with her condition ;D_

_11:44pm_

 

_I have her laying down and resting right here for a while._

_Someone's at the door, I'll be right back._

_11:45pm_  


After this set of messages, Lúcio felt that was really a good day for his friends. Maybe a celebration was due? He could make some sick awesome music in their honor, inspiration was right there…!

 

\--

 

When Emily opened the door, Ana looked at her from top to bottom before frowning and stating something.

“You know, I came here to ask Lena why there are panties discarded on the corridor, but looking at you I feel like I know already.”

Emily raised an eyebrow and smiled. She wore one of Lena's oversized flannel shirts half buttoned, pajama pants, her hair was gloriously askew and she had that tired and satisfied look of a person who had been busy with a very specific activity.

“I love how you automatically connect random lost panties to Lena.” Se chuckled, stepping aside so Ana could enter.

“Knowing her, there's nothing of random in that - and I'd rather not have my tenants complaining about this when they already do it for the mysterious screams into the night.

“Oh sorry, that was me.” Emily snorted.

“I figured as much.” Ana gave her a fake apprehending look that quickly shifted to playfulness as she made herself comfortable on the couch. “She's usually not the screamer, from what I usually hear from my flat.”

“Yeah, she's the beggar.” Amusing as it was talking about Lena, Emily was sure that wasn't the only thing that drove Ana there, or she wouldn't have gone inside. “So, do you want some tea, or…?”

“No, I'll be quick. We found nothing on Sombra yesterday. In fact she was already waiting and locked us in an apartment with a heavy metal door. It took us some hours to be able to get out of it.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you really think it was her? There’s absolutely no one I can think about that would hurt Lena on purpose. From what Lena told me of her, she’s dubious but nice.” Emily started pacing around the room quite slowly. Ana couldn’t help but notice she was walking a bit funny, and immediately her mind jumped to some conclusions she really didn’t want to make.

Ana shook her head and tried to focus on the task at hand.“That’s the thing, Ginger. She’s absolutely dubious, and if it served her purposes, I think she’d sell her own mother given the chance.”

“I could go stalk her a bit, if you want.”

“You wouldn't find her. She cloaks her energy completely.”

“ _Completely?”_ Emily’s eyes went wide for a moment. “A human can’t do that - a regular spirit like me can’t do that. We’re talking big here.”

The elderly woman nodded. “That’s the biggest reason I don’t trust her. I can’t read her at all, and I’m good at it.”

That was why she was able to see not only right through her human guise but through her intentions when they first met, Emily remembered very well.

She stopped and thought for a moment. She could go to the House of Terpsichore and explain the situation, politely request to go talk to the branch of guardian spirits that served for Lena’s lineage (it was something a bit trick to find out sometimes - lots of religions, beliefs, upbringings, regions of the world and even magical ties interfered with this stuff) and see if anything could be done about a possible future attack. There was a problem with this, two in fact: first, Lena was not the person she went to the physical realm for, Emily would be absolutely forbidden of interfering with someone’s affairs like that; and second, she had already pissed off a lot of the people who she could appeal to in this case by politely asking for them to remove the sticks up their arses. Asking the Higher Muse was not even in question this time, not when she had been so generous to let her come help Amélie in the first place.

“What can I do to help, then?” Emily asked finally, looking a bit upset she couldn’t do as much as she’d liked.

“Keep an eye on her for now, have your other girlfriend do the same when you’re not around. I’ll keep on searching for clues with Fareeha.” She got up and rolled her shoulders back, sighing. “This all may be an one time thing, but we can’t rely on that. Let’s be prepared.”

“Agreed.” Emily nodded, then opened a sly smile. “I’ll keep her busy so she won’t run into trouble.”

Ana’s brow furrowed so much it was almost comical. “Seems to me you’re the trouble she wants to keep running into.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Ana laughed, took a small plastic bag out of the pocket of her coat and extended it to the muse. “Here, your belongings. I’ll go buy some earmuffs.”

“Good day Ana, thanks for the update!” Emily took the bag, lead her out and closed the door giggling. As soon as she locked it she ran back to the bedroom full speed, stopping at the door to take the view in - Lena was all tangled on the sheets, looking as dreamy and drunk as she left her, and that was such a nice, heartwarming scene.

“You took so long…!” Lena whined, extending an arn towards her like a kitten in need.

“Well, Ana was scolding me because _someone_ took my panties off at the corridor and left them there for everyone to see, you know?” She laughed, showing her the small package and then throwing it to the side.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” Her eyes got wide as plates. “Was she too mad?”

She picked Lena's hand and sat down close. “No, resigned would be a better word. Have you done this before? Because she seemed to know that lost panties must be returned to this specific address, you know?”

“Oh piss off!” She chuckled, poking Emily's thigh with her nose. “I feel like there's something I had to tell Ana, but I can't remember what…”

“Give it some time, I did fuck you out of your mind after all.” She chuckled.

“Damn right! But I still shagged you out of existence, so I win.”

“You’re going to boast about this forever, aren’t you?”

“Of course I will!”

“Well, it won’t happen again, I’ll be more cautious.” Emily gave her a playful, quite challenging look. When Lena made a move to sit down, though, she barred her from it. “Not right now, you dork! We’re not overworking you.”

“Aaaaw!” Lena pouted. “Not even a bit?”

“It never _stays_ a bit, you know that. However… Cuddling.” She moved to lay down, bringing Lena to her chest. Lena, in turn, let out a happy sigh and brushed her head against her collarbone, just like a kitten.

Speaking of kitten, at the other side of the city Amélie played with little Baguette on the living room. She made a paper ball and threw it around for her to catch, marveled at how well the kitten was walking around. Baguette was changing from clumsy steps to a sure stride using her tail for balance, and an adorable bunny-like hopping when she wanted to run. She picked up the paper ball with her mouth and threw it around until it landed near Amélie, when the woman took it and restarted the throwing cycle.

Baguette looked so happy with her paper ball, hopping around like a little cat-bunny. She didn’t mind having useless stubs as front legs; instead, she found other ways to walk and live her kitten life as best as she could. She was perfect and lively, as she should be. Amélie could learn a thing or two from her.

Instinctively, Amélie looked at her bad foot. The scars were ugly and pretty visible, but she could move it with practically no problem into a wide range of directions. Yes, there were some limitations on the sharper angles and endurance, but she spent a good time the day before dancing and it was okay. It hurt a bit, but that wasn’t unexpected. She felt well and had a lot of fun.

She was taken out of her introspection by Baguette rubbing against her hand and purring. She picked her up and gave her a good chin scratch.

“Do you think I should try, Baguette…?” She moved her hand to scratch behind the cat’s ear. Baguette purred and licked her hand as she could. “That would make Emily so happy.”

She took a deep breath. It would make her very happy too, but she was afraid. What if she wasn’t well accepted? Would they even want her? Would--

 

_Amélie, stop. One thing at a time._

 

With her free hand she searched for her phone and struggled a bit to unlock it, but found out there were some messages there for her.

  


**Lena**

 

_I thought you’d like to have that, luv!_

_[attached picture]_

_1:43am_

 

The picture was from earlier that day, by the time, from after Lena and Emily had gotten home by some good margin. It showed Emily sleeping with a soft expression, holding the pillow tight. The sight of it made Amélie smile to herself, a little warmer inside.

 

_I just saw the pic Lena sent you. Embarrassing!_

_Look at my hair, by the Nine!_

_I’m so going to have a revenge on this_

_~Em_

_12:11pm_

 

_Did you sleep well, darling?_

_Had a good time yesterday?_

_12:34pm_

  


Amélie chuckled. She pointed the phone to Baguette and took a picture right as she was licking her nose, resulting in a very funny expression.

 

_[attached picture]_

_Poulain is being adorable, but just so you know,_

_you also were, on the picture above._

_3:15pm_

 

_I had a wonderful time._

_How could I not? You were there and we danced._

_Besides, Lena was her cute self, too, and her_

_friends are fun._

_3:16pm_

 

_Did the both you you have… Fun?_

_I will want the details._

_3:17pm_

 

_I’d like to know, chérie… Do you want to_

_go to the ballet some time? I found out I want_

_to go back there. We could bring Lena too,_

_but I don’t know if she’ll have the mind for it._

_3:20pm_

 

_I have some ideas and I think going to the_

_ballet will help me set some things straight_

_in my mind._

_3:21pm_

 

She stared at the messages sent for a moment, patting Baguette absentmindedly. She would wait for an answer with some anxiety, not because Emily could refuse - she most probably wouldn’t - but because it could mean something. A beginning, maybe.

Amélie let out an amused chuckle. What would her mother do if she was accepted to perform some function at the Royal Ballet, admittedly one of the best ballet companies of the world, but one in _England…_ ?  


\--

 


	23. Chapter 23

The muses rarely made places for themselves on the spirit plane. They tended to stay on the go and travel where they were needed, using places in the physical plane to rest, invisible and intangible. They did have a place, however; a site gifted to them long, long before, when gods roamed about the Earth undisguised. It consisted of a series of buildings perched on a mount in Illios, classic Greek style, nine in total: those were the Houses of the Muses, and in the physical plane, what remained of them were just a few unrecognizable ruins.

In the spirit plane, on the other hand, the place had been constantly updated and well cared for. The nine colossal temples remained a paragon of the original muses after millennia, but all sorts of other buildings for the new kinds of muses now dotted the landscape, as the rigid limits of what was art melted because of human and technological advancement. There was a glass pyramid like the Louvre, a building made out of repurposed containers, there were even spaces completely integrated with nature around in a solarpunk manner and tower built out of the sea below, and those were only a few to mention.

Due to the always travelling nature of their work, the people who usually stayed at the Houses were the ones learning and teaching, much like an university campus, the ones tasked with the bureaucratic jobs and the ones in charge. If you were called to the House of your muse, chances were that you had an official matter to address, you were called as a guest to lecture about something, you were visiting or you had to account for some serious matter.

In the current month, Emily had been to the House of Terpsichore five times already. She was almost memorizing the details of the corinthian capitals on the columns, and how the third one on the left had this nasty dent on a major ornament.

Utterly bored was a good description of her state of mind, but she heard their fossilized claims over and over throughout the days, from the lips of several people. Her superiors annoyed her to no end, but she’d let it boil inside until the right moment. Damn her if she’d be surprised by something she hadn’t seen coming from them. 

Emily let the proud muse in front of her snarl and shout, her long brown hair shaking as she gesticulated wildly. She let her finish, breathless, and only then she spoke, with a frigid calm that she learnt in part from Amélie.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have sex with my girlfriend given the chance?”

Her words echoed on the big room. She crossed her hands on the table before her, staring at the three superiors in front of her, and two of them looked very angry at her words.

“You shouldn’t  _ have _ a girlfriend,  _ a mortal girlfriend _ , in the first place!” The first, younger man replied. He gripped his pen tight, and she didn’t doubt he could break it as soon as he put it to use on his report.

“Sorry, it’s a bit too late for that, I got two.” Emily shrugged, but her smile was smug. “We already discussed this part. There’s absolutely no rule against it, it’s not illegal by our laws or the terms of my permit.”

“It’s common sense!” The only woman of the three got up with gritted teeth. Apparently she wasn’t the kind to stay put when she was annoyed at something. “And as we already told you, it would be frowned upon but tolerated in case it was an involvement with the woman you were sent to help, but the other one is a total deviation of--”

“Her name is Lena and she’s a wonderful person.” Emily cut. She would not tolerate anyone calling Lena any sort of wrong, especially because the woman had a tendency to think so herself. Even if she wasn’t present, it wasn’t something Emily would take. “If someone is deviant here, it’s me, and I keep failing to see how that’s the business of any of you.”

“It is when you set a precedent. When people start thinking they can go to the mortal world and do whatever they want.” The other man, older, who had been quiet and observing, finally spoke.

“And they’ll get  _ hurt! _ ” the woman completed, still pacing around heavily.

“That’s why it’s so difficult to get a permit, no?” Emily tilted her head. “I don’t think the Higher Muse would’ve let me go if she thought I’d--”

“You were in probation, you knew we’d be watching and you had sex with that woman regardless.” The older man pointed out.

“Well, did you like what you saw?” She snorted, an impish glint to her eyes. “I personally think it was awesome, can’t recommend it enough.”

“You are one of the four people allowed to go down to the mortal realm!” The angry woman took over again. “People know of you, and  _ that’s _ the example you set!”

Emily couldn’t help but be really amused by the way she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Oh, hang on, I’ve never been a hell of an example to start with, but I got the permit anyway. I think you should just deal with it already.”

“You’re taking this as a joke” The woman’s face was redder by the second. “cruising around like a mortal, having fun and forgetting what your mission is!”

“Excuse me? _ ”  _ Emily’s words were harsher now, a promise of an argument clear in her tone. 

“You bring shame to this House, Terpsichore! No, you shouldn’t even carry the name!” 

Between the words and slamming her fist on the table Emily was sitting at, that was the last straw to make Emily get up and snap. She did it so suddenly both the seated men made a mention to get up, thinking she was going to punch the other muse, but that was not what she did: she stared, jaw clenched, face dangerously close to her superior as she started talking slowly.

“You love saying how inadequate my behavior is and I can take that, I don't fucking care. But you know  _ nothing _ about my pride as a Terpsichore, darling, and  _ shut your mouth about me not doing my work!” _

She took some distance from the woman and gestured angrily towards the trio of muses. “The night of two days ago, you have the images, make use of them!”

They looked at each other hesitantly. The older man brought up a device and set some parameters on it, then activated it on the table. It seemed to scan their surroundings, and in the next moment they were in the jazz bar two days before. Amélie and Emily were spinning on the dance floor, people opened a circle to watch them and were not disappointed by the display of skill they gave.

“This is Amélie Lacroix.” Emily waved a hand towards her girlfriend, a proud, quite defiant smile making its way to her lips. “She was on the verge of killing herself months ago, and attempts at dancing only increased frustration and sadness. Look at her now. Who isn’t doing their job?”

The trio of superiors were silent, diverse expressions passing through their faces. The woman was very clearly mad, she looked like she was about to break something. The younger man looked lost, and the older, unreadable. That was the right moment. She’d show them just how much of a Terpsichore she was.

“If you’d be kind enough to go back about half an hour.” She asked the older man. The surrounding flickered and froze for a moment as he fumbled with the device on the table, and the scene changed to a previous time, where Emily was with Lena on the dance floor. They were laughing and Emily was trying to teach the woman some steps, but she was bad at it. She seemed to be having fun, though.

“This is Lena Oxton. She’s always been bad at dancing, but she’s got soul.” Emily chuckled. “Her motor problems after an accident made it even worse for her to go and dance, but she wants to. She’s trying. I’ve seen her asking Amélie for advice more than once - and that’s because of _me._ _Who’s not doing their job?!_ ”

The older man turned the device off, satisfied with the display, and they were once again in the marbled room.

“That is undeniable proof of her work.” He said, glancing at his very angry colleague. “Even with her maverick ways…”

Before they could say anything else, though, clapping was heard from the side of the room. When they turned, a very distinctive woman was leaning on one of the farthest columns, an undecipherable and quite spooky smile on her face.

“Oh, what a display! I knew I liked you, Emily. You have nerve.”

Had it been anyone else on that plane, Emily would’ve been delighted by the compliment, but her… She just didn’t like the way she spoke her name, as if there was something dubious about it. Besides, that woman wouldn’t appear without a reason, and they couldn’t always be classified as good.

For the first time in the day, Emily’s superiors seemed to agree with her thoroughly, and took a step back at the sight of the woman.

“Moira.” Emily greeted, in a nod and cautious seriousness.

Moira, weaver of fates. One hand that gives, and other that takes away. She was a tall woman with short ginger hair gelled back and heterochromatic eyes, blue and red, always vigilant. Her steps were elegant, and as she stood in front of the group of muses, she greeted them with a bow. 

“Emily, my fellow muses, I very much enjoyed watching your little exchange just now.”

“Oh, I’m glad it entertained you.” Emily flashed her a small, annoyed smile and crossed her arms. “What brings you here?”

The younger man looked from Moira to Emily, worried something could happen to the latter by the tone she was using. The older man put a hand on his shoulder; it was best not to get involved.

“I came to watch the fuzz you’ve been causing with my own eyes, of course. I must say I’m impressed the main issue is with your behavior, of all things.” Moira raised an eyebrow and produced a small purple orb of raw energy over her hand, then took a moment to admire it.

“What do you mean?” The older man asked.

Moira clenched her fist; the energy orb immediately popped. “What do I mean indeed.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Can you all stop taking care of my life, for fuck’s sake?”

At that, Moira chuckled. She turned to look at Emily, and her eyes sparkled with interest. “Oh you misunderstand, dear. I don’t care at all. You are just such an interesting case, going on as you are, completely aware of what you’re wagering. It enables me to collect invaluable data.”

In her guts, Emily wanted to take a step back and tell Moira to stop with the creep talk, but she knew that wasn’t the best course of action. She sighed, instead, and offered a playful bow to her. “You’re welcome, then.”

“I also bring a message from your beloved Higher Muse.” Moira produced a rolled and tied paper from a pocket inside her long black coat, and extended it towards the trio of Emily’s superiors. “I believe this will suffice for you to stop pestering our dear Emily with the morality and customs talk.”

The angry woman was the first to take the message, examining it on her hands before passing it on to the others. “It has her seal. It’s legitimate.”

The older man nodded and opened it. Emily and Moira waited in a tense silence as they read, even though Moira looked very pleased with herself, as always.

“She…” The younger man started, then shook his head.

“What does it say?” Emily took a step towards them, curiosity undeniable in her whole body language. The older man extended the message to her, and she saw it was in fact no more than a note.   
  


_ My greatly esteemed friends, _

_ I appreciate what you’re doing, keeping the order and upholding the values you believe are best for our society. Your hard work has not gone past my attentive eyes. However, I will have to ask you to step down on matters regarding the Terpsichore named Emily. Her circumstances are special and arranged between me, the witch Moira and Emily herself, and I’ll be responsible for handling her actions and according praises or punishments as necessary.  _   
  


The note wasn’t signed, but that wasn’t necessary: an energy impression unique to the Higher Muse was all over it - the Terpsichore herself told them to stop pestering Emily. She knew her by name. That made the muse speechless for a moment, reading a second time just to make sure she got everything right, and she looked at every one of the other people present in the room with wide eyes.

“I guess… it’s settled, then?” She blinked. “Wait, what time is it? ...In England? Fuuuck, I may be late…!”

Emily didn’t wait for an answer to phase out of there. She left the House of Terpsichore and Illios behind to make way for a quite small flat in King’s Row, where she hoped her girlfriends still were, cursing and thinking of what clothes she’d wear. It was ballet night. She simply could not leave Amélie waiting.

Moira, left alone with the others, smirked. Love was such a powerful, utterly dumb thing. She had seen it one too many a time - It would be the end of that girl.

On a brighter note, she’d be able to study it all, so it was totally worth it to endure the stupidity that was bound to follow.   
  


\--   
  


There were some things Lena hadn’t done in her life. Going to the Royal Opera House was one of them.

Amélie agreed to have lunch with her In Hanzo’s restaurant (she loved japanese food, after all, and Lena was still to make up to her friend for hanging around McCree’s place too much) where they had a real good time destroying a ship-worth of food. Of course, the food on the traditional ship served from two to four people, not a real size ship.

After eating (and Amélie dissuading Lena from taking some sashimi home to Baguette) they went back to one of the fancy cloth stores Amélie knew so well and bought Lena a suit. The woman didn’t like the idea of Amélie buying her one batch of expensive fancy clothes, but two on the same week? She was poor, and that was probably why she worried about that much money spent with her on arguably trivial things she could have bought at a less expensive store, so she tried to argue and make Amélie see that it wasn’t worth it, really. Unfortunately, the frenchwoman was both really rich and stubborn, so her pleas were set aside with a mere sentence: “ _ Keep complaining and I will remodel your apartment and gift you a closet full of clothes you’d expend three lifetimes to buy on your own”.  _ After that, Lena’s only answer consisted of an indignant squeak and arms crossed.

Amélie chuckled at that. She approached and almost kissed the top of Lena’s head in affection, but she stopped herself before it came to it. The last thing they needed was an awkward moment on top of Lena’s financial discomfort.

All of that aside, Lena really enjoyed trying suits on and learning which ones fit her best. She ended up with a black suit with a white bowtie and shiny black shoes, joking that she could be the next James Bond if she wanted. Amélie replied she was far too short for that, which lead to an argument about size versus ability that soon veered into sexual territory, until Amélie backed Lena into a dressing room and said she was the perfect size for a pet.

Lena blushed to the tip of her ears and almost babbled, but she kept herself sane enough to fire a reply:  _ “Do you see a collar, luv?” _

Amélie stared at her, unimpressed, then lowered her eyes to Lena’s neck and opened an amused smile. She took a step forward and dragged a finger over her jawline, enjoying how that small and lovely dork was holding her breath, and she took the finger to the white bowtie, poking it lightly.

Amélie tilted her head to the side for effect, and hummed. “I believe I do,  _ chérie. _ And I’m about to buy it.” 

Lena’s eyes widened in surprise and darted down, and when she acknowledged what Amélie talked about, she gasped and turned an even redder shade of red, one that would’ve made a coke can proud.

“T-That’s not-- I’m not--!”

Suddenly those golden eyes were very oppressing, and she was aware of just how close they were.

“Get these clothes off, Lena.”

“ _ W-what?!” _

_ Oh god oh god oh god oh god…! _

“You’re not staying in a suit until we go to the Opera House. You’re going to destroy it, if I know you.” She chuckled and backed away, leaving the dressing room swiftly, not at all worried by the fact she set Lena’s gay emergency systems on fire and kicked them over for good measure.

Needless to say, the trip back to Angela’s house was very awkward or amusing, depending on which one of them you asked.   
  


\--   
  


The performance they had tickets for was the one at the beginning of the night, so they had plenty of time to spend before going to Trafalgar Square. They decided to put that time to good use and play with Baguette, spending a lazy afternoon, because they could and deserved.

...Also because Baguette curled up on Lena’s lap and she was doomed to stay in that position until the mighty feline decided to move away.

“Hey Amé, tell me something.” Lena started, unpretentiously, while she scratched behind Baguette’s ear. “Is there anything I should know to watch the ballet tonight?”

Amélie, who was massaging her calves, raised her head with an inquiring look. 

Lena blushed slightly, and messed with her own hair. “Y-you know, like, is there some sort of etiquette, or…”

“Oh.” Her eyes softened and her lips curled into a small smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. There’s this myth that ballet is something for rich people who want to show off to each other about how rich they are, which is true to an extent, but not at all the norm anymore. No one’s going to judge you, and if they do, they’ll have to deal with me.”

“...I… Thanks, Amé.” Lena offered her a grateful smile, and rolled her shoulders back. “I wouldn’t like to embarass you on that, at least.”

“What do you mean, at least?” Amélie stared, curious, and Lena became even more flustered.

“Well, I’m this working class punk with an ugly history, and…”

“And?”

“I-I’m not really what you’d expect to end up with, right? It’s a whole different level…”

Amélie rolled her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head. “ _ Mon coeur,  _ do you really believe I even consider any of those things?” She gave her a look. “The Lena I know is a sweet young woman with a heart of gold, loyal to the bones, and full of the most delightful vivacity. That’s all that matters to me, really.”

Lena looked up at her with a relieved expression, like a puppy who expected to be scolded but earned a treat instead. She did that quite often, and it made Amélie wonder for how long she must have heard she was a bad person before they met, to have this ingrained shame of her ways. She never asked, though. She knew how hurtful it could be.

“Lena.” Amélie crisped her lips. “You clearly don’t see yourself.”

“Uh… Is that a bad thing?”

Before Amélie could answer, they heard a loud and surprised meow, followed by the sound of something falling and hitting a hard surface continuously. Both Lena and Amélie got up and looked at the direction the sound came from, but Lena’s vision darkened and she had to hold the arm of the couch to avoid falling back seated.

“Baguette?” Amélie looked around and saw a slight open door right below the staircase. It all clicked in her mind. “Oh  _ mon Dieu, _ She fell in the basement…!”

She ran for the door, and Lena, only then getting up properly, tumbled behind her.

“Wait, I didn’t even know you had one…!”

 

\--   
  


“Are you okay,  _ my petit ange? _ ” Amelie hummed with Baguette in her lap, scratching her chin and neck. “It was just a scare,  _ non?” _

Baguette purred and licked her hand as she could.

Near the end of the staircase, Lena looked around the basement with a frown. The place was just as it should be: boxes, seasonal gear, stashed books and furniture. The difference was that the furniture looked like it was made centuries before from noble wood, and there were actual paintings hidden by white cloth leaning on a wall. Lena could only know they were paintings in the first place because one of them was slightly uncovered.

“This place looks like a museum.” She stated, getting closer to the painting and raising the cloth to take a look. “But this is awesome!”

Amélie stretched herself to take a look at what she was looking, but it was too far off her visual field. She had to get up and go to the actual place, and Baguette meowed in protest because she had to interrupt the chin scratching. It was worth it, though, because she ended up seeing an old family relic.

“Ah, that.” A small smile appeared on her lips. “It’s been a while I haven’t seen this one.”

They were staring at a huge painting of a family in what looked like a castle hall, their clothes suggesting they were in Renaissance times.There were at least ten people there, clearly nobles with their fancy medieval clothes and jewelry, divided in two groups - the ones on the right, who all had black hair, and the ones on the left, who had mostly blond hair, with two exceptions (a ginger boy and a brunette woman). They all looked so frivolous, as most of the people on paintings on that period did, but the woman in the center caught Lena’s attention exactly because she was nothing like that. Her clothes looked way more practical and she wore pants, something really weird for a woman in that century - or the ones that followed, for the matter. She was beautiful and stern, and Lena thought all of that only worked in her favour, to be honest.

“I wonder who she is... She’s hot.” She chuckled, pointing at the painted woman.

“Her? Oh, she’s Countess Danielle Lacroix, the Huntress.” Amélie gave her a smug look.

Lena’s jaw dropped. “She’s your ancestor?! And a Countess?!”

“ _ Oui _ . Stories say she was so exceptional a hunter she made a fortune slaying monsters, so much the king himself called her to end a beast that lurked in Versailles, and in exchange for it he gave her lands and a title. You can see the scars on her face if you look closely.” She pointed to the Countess’ face, where claw lines went from her forehead to her chin in a diagonal swipe. “I am rather fond of her.”

“That’s so badass! Wait, so if she was a countess, are you also?”

“It’s… Complicated.” Baguette was trying to get down from Amélie’s hands, and she set her down on one of the boxes near. “Don’t get lost,  _ mon ange. _ Anyway, do you see the blonde people here? Those are the Zieglers. Danielle married a foreign viscount who was also an exceptional hunter, and they both lived happily forever after hunting monstrosities, as the tale goes. A wild card, she was.” She chuckled. “But the important thing is that she kept her name and title and he gave up on his, for it was lesser, so it was a huge thing in the society at the time. Their kids were still Lacroix, while his brother’s kids, still in Switzerland, were Zieglers, and that’s how my part of the family and Angela’s came together.”

“Wow, to know so much about your lineage… I just know about my grand-grandpa because he was this fighter pilot in the war, and obviously my dad went about the house bragging about him as an example of male supremacy and stuff. Joke’s on him, though, because I thought that was the coolest thing ever and turned into a pilot better than gran-gran was, for his eternal despair.”

Lena snorted and crossed arms. Her eyes had something of defiance, a sharp edge, but deep in the corner lurked some sadness, maybe even weariness. Amélie reached out and put a hand on her arm, gently, and giving her a reassuring look.

“If you ever need to talk I’m here,  _ chérie. _ ” 

Lena looked out of the world for a moment, but then she was flustered and averted her gaze. “I… Uh… It’s over, anyway. Wow, that woman really looks like Angie!”

She pointed at one of the women on the Ziegler side of the painting, who wore a green dress trimmed with gold, and had her golden hair tied back as it was customary at the time. She did look like Angela, a lot, and that was weird and frankly amusing.

“...Yes she does, but look, the eyes are different. Golden like mine.” Amélie raised an eyebrow, but she obliged and changed the subject as Lena wanted. “That was why Angela threw the painting down here when she inherited the house, if I remember well. She always hated how people would joke she was an immortal vampire or how she had bathed in the blood of virgins to live all this time.”

“Aw, will she hit me if I make one of these jokes?” Lena’s shoulders dropped.

“Possibly. But you can joke how the man besides her looks exactly like our uncle Philip, only  with a monstrous moustache.”

“But that won’t be all that fun! I can still joke about her drinking habits, right…?”

Amélie rolled her eyes and started looking for Baguette. “Let’s go up,  _ chérie.  _ We can’t risk finding my grandmother’s old socks in this place. _ ” _   
  


\--

 

When they arrived at the Royal Opera House it was a bit early, so they directed themselves to the Paul Hamlyn Hall Champagne Bar, to order something for the intermission. On the way, Lena noticed how the majority of the people weren’t as well dressed as her and Amélie, wearing clothes they’d often wear for a play or a fancier restaurant, and that raised some questions in her mind.

“Amé, let me ask you a thing.” Lena looked around. The place was very beautiful, just as she expected, and it fascinated her.

“Go ahead."

“Why are we the best dressed people in here…?”

Amélie whipped her hair back with how quickly she turned to face Lena, deep offense in her eyes as she stuffed her chest like a bird ready to fight. “ _ Pardon me? _ Why  _ wouldn’t _ we be?”

“W-well, a lot of people are wearing more casual things…” Lena shrinked back and stuttered, eyes wide from the sudden threatening demeanor.

“ _ Oui,  _ but I take this as a highly esteemed event, so nor me or my girls will be below impeccably dressed for the occasion.” Her tone was one of decision, and Lena nodded all too quickly in response.

“O-okay, forget I asked!” Lena replied.

“Besides, I needed an excuse to see you in a suit.” She smiled a bit wickedly and got her receipt from the cashier. She would be able to get her order with it on the intermission.

“So you  _ do _ have an uniform - or formal wear, really - fetish!” Lena beamed a bit too loudly on the semi empty cafeteria, a silly grin on her face.

Amélie grabbed her by the bowtie and pulled her towards her chest, ending with her lips a bit too near her ear.

“No, that’s just good taste. A fetish of mine would be tying Emily to the bed and ruining her,  _ chérie. _ With you watching.” When she looked back at Lena, she was completely flustered. Good. That was the desired reaction. “I’m sure our beloved muse will be joining us shortly.” She picked up Lena by the chin and spinned her towards the exit of the cafeteria. “Let’s go take our seats.”

Maybe Amélie knew, maybe she didn’t, but Lena’s silence on the way was not entirely from astonishment - there were some very wild thoughts going on in her head about Amélie’s words, and she was a bit conflicted with what she was feeling towards them. Namely, she wasn’t sure she should be feeling horny about her girlfriend being ruined by the girlfriend of hers, but she was feeling it regardless.

 

\--   
  


The auditorium was the most beautiful room Lena had ever seen in her life, she was sure of that. The red velvet chairs and stage curtains contrasting with the golden ornaments on the various balconies, the gorgeous lighting, the little carved details everywhere… She was really astounded by all of it. Amélie saw her reaction and smiled to herself. She was used to the opulence of the big performance venues, and she had to admit the Royal Opera house was amazing.... But it was nothing compared to the  _ Opéra national de Paris _ . That was truly a heavenly sight.

English and French rivalries apart, they found their seats quite easily and made themselves comfortable to wait for the beginning of the performance. Eventually the last call in was issued, and when the lights dimmed Emily still wasn’t there. That’s when they started to worry; she didn’t make a habit of being late for anything, especially when it was important. That said, sometimes she did arrive at the last minute, so there was still time.

When the curtains opened and the lights went out, there was still an empty chair by Amélie, though. She took a brief glance at Lena, who did the same. Seeing Amélie’s affliction, she picked up her hand and squeezed. Emily was coming. It was only a delay.

They focused on the performance.  _ The Nutcracker _ was lovely, a good piece to introduce Lena to the ballet world, and it turned out she had never read or watched the story, even though she knew of it. It was delightful to see her reactions as some things happened in the scene or the dancers made especially daring movements, she looked like a child with sparkling eyes, one who would talk about the performance for months to come.

“Huh, it looks like the British are not that bad at ballet, who knew.” Amélie whispered to Lena, just to tease. The Royal Opera Ballet was one of the best in the world and she knew that. Lena, though…

“They’re awesome, you French snob!” She replied and pointed to the stage. “Just look at that!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying, Lena. I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

“It’s cool! I get a bit confused without dialogue, though…” Her words trailed off as she watched, and Amélie hummed in amusement. 

Ballet was such a beautiful thing. Amélie saw herself taken by the dancers, analysing just how amazing were the things they did, the lights, the costumes. She had never performed  _ The Nutcracker _ at her time in the Paris Opera Ballet, and as the ensemble spinned, she could imagine she was there with them on stage, her mind focused on meticulous movements, the feeling of the floor beneath her feet, the spotlights. It was an unique sensation that she missed a lot, but things can’t always be how you want them to be, that’s how life goes… And hers went, as well. She still could dance on a different level, on different stages. She just had to start.

As if she sensed the tension, Lena started making soft circles on her hand with her thumb. It was oddly comforting. They stood like that for some time, until a quieter scene came, and Amélie turned to ask Lena something.

“Do you think they’d know me?”

“Huh?” Lena tilted her head.

“If we went backstage to talk to them. Do you think they’d know me?”

“Some of them would by face, yeah. And most of them, by name.” 

They both turned to the other side of Amélie, where Emily was staring at them with a very apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry it took so long. The fucking time zone difference got me.” She leaned her forehead on Amélie’s shoulder for a moment, sighed and raised her head.

Amélie smiled and brought her in for a quick peck, enough to convey her thoughts on the matter, and the three of them went back to watching. Now, with all of them there, it would be all right.

 

\--

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for taking this long to update, lots of stuff going on. Anyway, hope you like it! o/


	24. Chapter 24

It was strange and quite chilling to go back to that place in a night where no one was around. The skeleton of the unfinished Golden Wreath Mall loomed all around Ana and Fareeha, and for them, who could feel the cursed miasma that fended off even spirits, an extra effort was required to keep going into the heart of it willingly. It felt like something gruesome was about to happen, and that was exactly what the curse was about, decay and destruction.

At least the ominous glowing cloud thing wasn’t there, so that was an upside.

“Here is good, Fari.” Ana stopped and pointed her flashlight around. They were in an small open area, columns all around. It was a bit oppressive, looking from the bottom of it as they were, but they did their best to ignore it. They had a job to do there.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to poke around this place, mother…?” Fareeha was restless, her eyes darted everywhere. It was a place too silent, too sterile…

“Not a good idea, no.” Ana walked in a circle, drawing strange shapes and glyphs with a stick and practiced ease. “But it may give results.”

“You’re properly shielded, right?”

Ana frowned. “Of course I am. Now take your place and guard me, child.”

Fareeha kept herself from rolling her eyes and turned away from the overly complex magic circle her mother was drawing, in favor of scanning the area for any possible treat, physical or not. Ana always did that to her, called her child. She was just looking out for her mother! What if she had forgotten this time? She was getting older, and while it didn’t look like she was getting any less sharp, it could happen. You didn’t even need to be old to forget things, in the first place…!

Ana finished drawing in the gritty terrain and sat on the center of it all. She took out of her cloak a small bottle with a translucent, slightly green liquid, a bowl and incense sticks. She put the incense in the bowl in front of her, then opened the bottle and poured some drops on her hands, that she shook together afterwards. Putting the bottle back in its place, Ana picked up a lighter and lit up the incense. A deep breath followed, and she closed her eyes. The words came back from memory, and she hummed them with purpose and rhythm, as she knew it should be.

She had the knowledge that several groups of Dispellers from the London Police had tried, in vain, to end the curse on the Golden Wreath Mall until it was declared a no-go area. She knew some of these incursions had been disastrous. It was okay, really. She was not looking to end anything, but rather, learn from it..

There was no warning sign when her mind plunged into the deep waters between the planes. Even Fareeha, who could detect these delicate energy changes almost as well as her, didn’t notice anything. She felt herself gently going down a bottomless pit, except it wasn’t bottomless - she felt herself reemerge, and when she opened her eyes, the place was the same, but also vastly different.

The thing about Ana’s Sight was that it showed her the spirit realm as a ghostly overlap to her world. She missed the finer details, the small things, subtleties she had an intuition were there, but she couldn’t actually find.

Now, projected, she saw only the spirit realm, and the Golden Wreath Mall was an even awfuller place. An oil-like substance dripped from cracks in the concrete columns and collapsed floors, running down in streams like disturbing veins and arteries to the lower parts of the terrain, where the car enthusiasts often held the drift competitions and the races..It smelled of sweat, alcohol and infected wounds, so Ana wasn’t glad to walk around the thing. She’d really appreciate if the movies were right for once and she could float around freely, but that just wasn’t her luck; she had to dodge it regardless.

Ana directed herself to the lower part, looking around for anything of interest. In a common environment it would be highly unlikely for her to find any trace, but she wasn’t going to search with the usual methods. she reached once again for the inner pockets of her coat and took a small bottle of sand from it. She uttered some words, took some sand and blew it - the particles glittered in gold and blue as they flew, turning into a sick-yellowed mist over the nearby streams of foul black liquid. That was part of the awful miasma from the curse. She kept walking towards the race area and repeating the process with the sand, getting quite similar results most of the time. Sometimes she’d get the fading aura of a group of people, the lingering energy of some minor spell, and once, although in an unrelated case due to the apparent age of the thing, she found a spike of demonic energy in a round area the radius of a cup.

It wasn’t looking very good. She knew there should be something somewhere, because what was after Lena was strong, and stronger energy tended to remain, especially in cursed places.

Ana felt a tug on the back of her head that meant the spell on the physical world was starting to fade, she had to act faster. She went on a quick pace to the race track and poured the sand over the parts that weren’t flooded with black liquid and she could reach. Maybe if she went through it she’d eventually find the exact spot where Lena was struck.

It wasn’t the case, so far.

“What are you doing here, a puny hag?!” A rough male voice shouted.

Ana whipped towards the sound and saw a man with purple-redish skin covered in scars, eyes on fire and pointy, gritted teeth. A demon of rage, undoubtedly. 

She sighed. “Not now, son, I got work to do.”  And she went back to blowing sand on the tracks.

“Whaddya say, bitch?” The demon roared.

“Nothing, don’t worry about me. I’m just an old woman.”

As the sand turned into mist over the floor, something different showed up: a faint trace of a blue energy ribbon. Ana couldn’t tell immediately what it was, aside that it looked like the glowing cloud. Finally, something.

“Well old woman, I’m in need to break someone tonight.” The demon continued, even though Ana wasn’t paying that much attention to him. It didn’t matter, demons of rage were clouded by their constant anger - which gave them the name - and were blind to details. “And it’s gonna be you!”

_ Oh for God’s sake, that’s stupid. _

Ana rushed and picked up a stone marked with a specific glyph from her pocket, sticking it into the blue energy before the demon started running towards her with a roar and fists raised. A thug, really, fed by violence. Annoying as fuck.

The stone absorbed the energy until it was glowing blue itself, and that was when Ana turned just in time to dodge a punch from the guy.

He tried to get her with another punch, but slipped on the black liquid and it gave her time to dodge and run.

“Fareeha!” Ana shouted out.

She didn’t have her rifle or sleep darts in the spirit realm. Actually, she was pretty vulnerable aside from the shielding she had done not to be affected by the energy of the place. She had to wait for the spell to dissipate completely in order to be able to go back to the physical realm, which would happen in about ten minutes, but it was far too much time if there was someone trying to beat her to a pulp.

Fareeha appeared at the top of the elevation, confused, then very alarmed when she saw the spirit of her mother being chased by a demon.

“Hang on!” Faheera picked up a notepad from her pocket and started flipping pages to find something.

“Of course, I have the whole night!” Ana replied, grumpy, jumping past a puddle and running up towards her daughter.

“Found it!” Faheera beamed and started drawing something with her finger on the air  “ _ Get back!” _

A large sphere of air bolted towards Ana and the demon like a bullet, and the elder woman had to jump to the side to avoid being hit by it. The demon, though, was hit on the chest and sent flying back, landing in a small lake of the black liquid. He started flailing and screaming immediately, his skin corroded by what looked like acid.

Ana got on her feet groaning, holding her aching back. “You almost got me there, child!”

“I also saved you, mother.”

“That you did.” She shrugged, a smirk on her lips.

“ _ What the fuck is going on here?! _ ”

They turned towards the sound, and Ana groaned audibly.

The thing about demons of rage, besides their anger-driven stupidity, is that they’re never too far from a bunch of others. You can’t have a fight alone, after all - and there, on the other side of the Amaris, were three more of them.

“Get them boys, they’re killing Bloodmace!” The bigger and uglier of them shouted out, being joined by the others as they charged.

Fareeha and Ana looked briefly at each other, weary. That was so  _ not _ what they had planned for their evening. 

 

\--

 

Amélie wouldn’t have dreamt of the excitement in those dancer’s eyes when she arrived backstage and they recognized her.  They chattered about how she’d been on her way to becoming the ballerina of the most prestigious ballet company in the world, roles she’d taken, her young age for someone so skilled.  Above all, they wanted to know what she thought of their performance, something she was very happy to answer. They were  _ magnifíque,  _ in her own words, and deserved all the fame they had as one of the top ballet companies in the world.

Emily and Lena were watching the exchange near the entrance of the changing room, commenting on how happy Amélie looked in that atmosphere, backstage with the dancers.  They were even discussing talking to her about starting training again, when a distinct older woman with pixie grey hair and a sumptuous long-sleeved black dress went in, going for the dancers and opening her arms wide in a warm gesture.

“My dear friends, tonight’s performance was heavenly, I expected no less!” She had a huge smile and her voice was full of wonder.

Emily poked Lena in the ribs, excited. “Look, look!”

“Ow!” Lena squinted at Emily, then turned her eyes to the group of people at the exact moment when Amélie saw the woman and her eyes opened wide as plates.

“Marie Lewis?” Amélie asked, reverent.

“Yes, my dear, and you are Amélie Lacroix!” The woman took a stride to her and picked up her hands. “What a pleasant surprise, to see you here!”

“The pleasure is all mine, ma’am - to know a person as important as you regards me in some manner…!”

Near the door, Lena turned back to face Emily, frowning in confusion. “Who’s she?”

“The most influential person when it comes to Ballet in this country, third most important in the world!” Emily practically bounced from one feet to the other in excitement.

“Wow, and of all the days to be here, she came today? That’s awes-- wait.” Lena blinked some times. “Do you have anything to do with that?”

Emily tried to hide her joy behind a smirk, but soon she was nodding a bit too eagerly, a huge grin on her face. Lena gasped and turned back to watch Amélie and the woman, now with a whole new understanding of it.

“So you came to London to find yourself after that dreadful accident, dear, that’s totally comprehensible.” Marie Lewis offered Amélie a sympathetic look.

“My girls have been fundamental in my recovery, Mrs. Lewis.” Amélie pointed with her head towards the door, and Lewis finally noticed the two women who watched them with some mix of joy and expectation.

“Then I should thank them for supporting the shining star you are, Amélie. And please, call me Marie.” Amélie nodded. “I’d love to have a chat with you over some food in a more proper time, what do you say?”

“It would be lovely, I couldn’t be more honored!”

“Very well then, meet me for lunch at the Paul Hamlyn Hall restaurant on the mezzanine, say, next Wednesday?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Marie squeezed her hands for a moment and let go, excusing herself to go talk with the dancers.

Amélie said a vague farewell, picked up Lena and Emily, and as soon as they were far away from the backstage she started having a fangirl attack with Emily on the corridor.

“That was  _ Marie Lewis _ !” She practically squealed, and it was very strange to see her acting in a way much more characteristic of Lena.

“I know!” Emily replied, grinning. “What did she tell you?!”

“She wants to have lunch with me next Wednesday!”.

“That’s amazing!”

They both looked like they were ready to start jumping around, cheering and hugging, which made Lena’s heart melt. She remembered doing the same thing when she saw some musicians in punk festivals or particularly good artists on conventions.

“It calls for some pints at the pub, yeah?” Lena suggested, making finger guns toward them.

“You can’t drink.” Emily replied almost automatically, and when she saw Lena’s grimace, she snickered. “But we’ll order some non-alcoholic drinks for you, of course.”

“And you get drunk and unable to materialize, so...” It was time for Lena to reply, crossing her arms and frowning. 

“Well, I’m going to have some wine.” Amélie sing-sang. “Good thing my medicine allows it.  _ Allez! _ ”

 

\--

 

They had dinner at one of the restaurants in the Royal Opera House and went to Amélie’s house afterwards. It was late and at this point, Lena could go naked to the kitchen to grab a snack and Angela wouldn’t be surprised (she would, however, congratulate Amélie afterwards for finally banging the woman. It was about time), so she took the guests room while Amélie went to her own room and took Emily along.

**_“_ ** _ It’s a pity this bathtub isn’t big enough for both of us. _ **_”_ ** Amélie came back from the bathroom disentangling her wet hair with her fingers, a light grey silken robe wrapped loosely around her body. In the dim light of a bedside lamp, she looked like a moon goddess: her skin a finely crafted marble, nightshade hair cascading down her chest and eyes that looked like liquid silver in that light, taking all the air out of Emily’s lungs with just a glance. The muse thought for a moment of writing down the description with those exact words and showing her Erato friend, but she lost the train of thought as quickly as it came. “Emily…?”

“...Sorry, I trailed off.” Emily was half sitting half laying on the bed with an elbow on the mattress and a hand supporting her chin, and her silly grin was a lot like Lena’s when she saw things she adored. “You are so beautiful.”

“ _ Merci, mon coeur.”  _ Amélie sat on the edge of the bed and blowed her a kiss.

Emily got closer and raised a hand, reaching out for Amélie. “...Can I...”

She dropped her hand and Amélie stared at her, waiting for the end of the sentence. When it was clear that she wouldn’t say it, Amélie asked: “Yes? What do you want?”

“I… Can I take care of your hair for you?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow.  “Of course,  _ chérie. _ ” She leaned towards her and opened a soft smile.“No need to be so anxious about asking me anything.”

Emily didn’t answer at first. “Let me grab a comb…!”

Amélie held her by the hand before she could slip away. “I mean it. Why can you be so open to Lena and not to me, Emily?”

Her voice held no sharp edge, no judgement, but even then Emily turned back and stared with a shocked expression for a second.

“It’s not--”

“Yes it is.”

She sighed and looked down, fidgeting. “I was about to say it wasn’t easy.” Her tone was a bit apologetic. “I’m your muse, I… I should be aiding you, not asking for stuff.”

“Emily.” Amélie gently raised her chin so they could look each other in the eye. “I don’t know what they’re teaching you muses, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting things for yourself. As much as you like to give, I want to be able to give you things back, too.”

Emily took a moment to pass her fingers through Amélie’s damp hair, then chuckled with a hint of sadness. “I’m a terrible muse.”

“Oh no,  _ chérie,  _ you’re the best there is.”  

“If only the other terpsichores believed you.” Emily sighed, letting her shoulders drop.

They stood in silence for a second.

“Let’s do it like this” Amélie started. “I’ll grab the comb, you’ll take care of my hair and tell me how upset you are with this. How does it sound?”

“...Good.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

 

\--   
  


Emily was extremely careful and soft dealing with Amélie’s hair. She dried it with a towel and combed it with patience, stopping once or twice to massage Amélie’s scalp and draw soft moans of approval that made her giggle. 

“You’ll make me sleep with how good that is.” Amélie grunted, a bit drowsy.

“You say that like it was a problem.”

“I want to hear you. Tell me about the other terpsichores.”

Emily bit her lip. She wanted so much  _ not _ to tell her about them...

“Well… What do you want to know, beside the fact that most of them think I’m this hedonistic scallywag who’s using my time here to do whatever I want?”

“I didn’t know it hurt you.” Amélie said, simply.

Emily stopped combing and closed her eyes for a second.

“It usually doesn't. But to know I’m the only one who sees things in a different light… It’s tiring. I end up questioning myself more often than I’d like. ”

Amélie turned to face her. “What is it that you're questioning,  _ chérie _ ?”

She looked straight into her amber-turned-silver eyes. “If they’re right. If I’m really a disgrace to the muses.”

“You, a disgrace?” Amélie scoffed. “You are a blessing, Emily, and don’t you think you’re anything short of that.”

“You may be biased, you know.” Emily chucked a bit, but the humor was faint and hollow.

Amélie held her face with both hands. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you,  _ chérie. _ Lena wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”

The shock in Emily’s expression made Amélie smile. For all her resolve and hard work, Emily was just like Lena when it came to forgetting her accomplishments; They both were so much more than they gave themselves credit for. 

“This 'disgrace’ of a muse is so full of love and compassion she not only stuck around in a different plane to help me, but Lena as well. You could argue that's not your job per se, but I say it's even more impressive  _ because _ of that. Besides, it definitely falls on you that I’m going back to ballet training, Emily.”

“ _ You’re going back to training?!” _

A full moment of silence passed with Emily staring dumbfounded at Amélie until she nodded. Then the muse hugged her so eagerly they fell laying on the bed, laughing.

“How is that for a muse, hm? It’s all your fault.” Amélie hummed on her hair.

“Amé…!” It was all she could say, really, but the way she laughed and held her girlfriend told a lot more about how happy she was with the news.

After a long time of cuddling, when sleep was almost taking hold of Amélie, Emily looked at her and thought about how beautiful she was. In the quiet of the night, warm below a blanket and warm into her soul, the muse could want nothing more than to stay like that forever with one of the women she loved. Like that, she could almost forget the annoying trembling she had been having since they started dinner.

“You make me do some very crazy stuff, my love.” She whispered to herself, unaware that in her drunken haze of sleepiness, Amélie could still hear her. “Like Icarus.”

In the silence of the night, the muse curled up a bit more into her dancer’s embrace and sighed, happy for Amélie, proud of her influence, satisfied from the night they spent together at the ballet, but also fearful. The higher you climb, the harder you fall, they say, and she wasn’t anywhere near the bottom on that situation.

The kinda scary and very satisfying part was that as she kept asking herself from time to time, she noticed that every single time she'd do it all over again, and that was simply all right.

 

\--

  
  



	25. Chapter 25

Time was an incredible thing. It could pass like a heartbeat or an eternity, and it all depended on how much awareness a person had of it. Amélie was waiting eagerly for the lunch she’d have with the head of the London Royal Ballet, so of course Wednesday seemed to never come for her, but for Lena it came real fast as she picked up her paint cans again to do some minor graffiti jobs throughout her neighborhood.

Time seemed to run in slow motion as Amélie went into the mezzanine floor of the Royal Opera House with a sure stride that masked well a gnawing anxiety. For a moment, as she searched the tables on the Paul Hamlyn Hall restaurant, she wished she hadn’t asked Emily to go alone, as she felt a dire need to hold her hand and have some sort of comfort from her as she was barely managing not to freak out. She did find the older woman with pixie gray hair in a corner table, though, and a part of the tension was released by it. Even if it was highly unlikely, her mind had been screaming that it could’ve been all a prank on her.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Lewis.” Amélie greeted as she approached, offering a soft smile.

“Amélie! Wonderful, you’re here. Please take a seat, we have much to discuss!” Marie waved towards the chair. She had smiling eyes and a genuine smile, but that didn’t do much to alleviate the tension.

“Of course. I’m glad to have a moment of your time.” She sat down and made herself comfortable.

“Oh, down with the formalities, I am not the queen of England.” Marie chuckled. “Let’s order something, mm?”

She tilted her head to the side, where a waiter was ready to take their orders. After some suggestions and decisions, the man went away and they were ready to start the real conversation.

“So, dear, how are things going for you here in our lovely city?” Marie put her hands crossed on the table.

“Aside from your frankly weird custom of eating a whole meal in the morning, I’m doing pretty well. Of course, I have some facilitators.” She smirked, thinking of Emily and Lena.

“That’s very good to hear. Oh, here comes our wine!”

The waiter served both of them, declaring proudly that it was a very expensive brand from 1989, as they had requested, and excused himself with promises of bringing their food soon.

“You mentioned doing physiotherapy after the accident, correct?”

“ _Oui._ I started it a couple months ago, but the results are already showing. I was even thinking of starting training again…”

That seemed to be what Marie expected to hear, because she opened a satisfied smile at the words. “Is that so? Lovely. It ties so very well with what I was going to offer you, but I have a little question first. Do you still have ties with the Paris Opera Ballet?””

A shiver like an electric current went up Amélie’s spine. Was Marie Lewis about to offer her what she thought she was going to?!

“No, I… They offered to allocate me in a different position once I was better, but it was too painful for me at the time.”

“I understand. To see all your colleagues performing and not being able to do so… Is it still painful?” Marie gave her a searching look.

Amélie took a sip of her wine, considering. “I’ve changed. I’ve been doing a good job on accepting I’m not a top notch ballet dancer anymore, but I’d still like to perform, and I don’t see why I couldn’t assume some other roles as well. I miss being involved more than anything.”

“Wonderful - I’ve got a job to offer you. It’s not much for now, but you’ll have access to our associated doctors, and in the future we can surely discuss better options for someone as talented as you. Are you interested, Amélie?”

Amélie was taken aback for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. That offer was better than anything she had hoped for. In fact, she had been coming around the idea of discreetly gathering intel on the ballet companies admitting new crew, maybe a pointer of two on how to proceed with her physio, but she’d never think she’d be wanted right off the bat like that.

“I am.” She tried to keep it cool, but the excitement was visible in her smile. “What do you have in mind?”

“Having you help a little all of the support roles: the ballet masters, me, the director… See what you feel more comfortable with, on the first weeks. I have a strong hunch that you’ll do well with the ballet masters, though.” Marie smile and moved her glass of wine slowly before taking a sip.

“That sounds lovely. I can’t help but ask, though… Why?”

“Because who wouldn’t, dear? I had a call with the heads of The Paris Opera House after we met. I’d be crazy to let someone with your skills slip away.” She answered like it was no big deal, but for Amélie, it was.

Throughout the almost two years now that Gérard died and she was somewhat impaired, one of the biggest things haunting her was the prospect of not being good enough anymore, nor ever again with her bad foot. If she couldn’t be the best, she was worthless, and undeserving of her Lacroix lineage… But she slowly learnt better than that, and now there was Marie Lewis, head of the Royal Ballet, telling her she was a valuable and skillful asset, even though she knew she couldn’t be the world’s best _ballerina_ anymore.

Gérard would’ve chucked and told her it was natural, she was perfect already. He’d give her a playful look, like the lovely buffoon he was.

Emily would probably say it was because she _was_ absolutely awesome regardless of any disability, and anyone could see that; Her zealous muse...

Lena would grin that goofy and adorable grin of hers and hug her, then get all excited about getting ballet gear and telling everybody the news; She was just that sweet.

“I’m frankly honored, Marie.” Amélie bowed with her head, softly.

 

\--  


“Tell me how you’re doing in the new house, Big Guy! Why can’t I go visit yet?”

Lena was perched on Winston’s shoulders, climbing him up as he giggled.

“Well, uh… It’s still mostly covered in boxes, I’ve only assembled a table, my bed and most of the equipment for the lab. There’s a lot of delicate components, it’s taking me a lot of time.” He scratched his nose.

“I could help you assemble them, my hands are smaller!” Lena covered Winston’s eyes for a moment with said hands,.

“You know you’d break half the lab trying, right?” Emily chuckled and rolled her eyes. She was sitting on the couch eating chips and watching the exchange. “Now, why don’t you let Winston come in properly before you shower him in questions?”

Lena showed her the tongue, but let Winston see again and jumped down from his back. He, in turn, messed with her hair and went to greet Emily.

“Chips?” She offered, raising the bag.

“No, thanks.”

“So, what brings you here, Winston?” Lena finally came around, stretching her arms. “You didn’t even call…”

Winston raised his head like he had just reminded of something, and turned to face her. “Ah yes! I was already forgetting again - We need to take a look at that drawing you made at the jazz club!”

“Which drawi-- _Oh!_ ” Comprehension flashed in Lena’s eyes, and she quickly took a stride to the bedroom. “C’mon you two, follow me!”

When they both arrived, Lena was already searching through her stuff. She picked up a small notebook and turned so eagerly to show them she almost hit Winston in the process. “Here it is!”

He put the huge bad he had been carrying down and picked the sketchbook carefully, adjusting his glasses, skimming through the pages with a the care of a scientist. Emily got on the tip of her toes to spy what he was searching, and he lowered the notebook so she could see better.

“So… what are you looking for?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, uh… here!” He pointed to the drawing: a series of sketches of two people that were undoubtedly Amélie and Emily dancing.

“That’s beautiful…! Why didn’t you show me before?” She turned to Lena, who shrugged.

“I forgot. But, anyway… Why did I want to show you that anyway, Winston?” She frowned. “I can’t remember.”

“You drew it months ago, if I remember well.”

This time, it was Emily who frowned. “Months? But that’s me and Amé dancing in the jazz club!”

“That’s the point!” Winston smiled. “How did Lena draw that before it happened?”

He picked a strange device from his pocket, something similar to a multimeter but with a weird antenna on top, and turned it on.  
  
“What’s that?” Lena tilted her head to the side.

“A prototype of our energy differentiator.” He replied. “If there’s some unusual energy reading, it should tell us.”

“Should...?”

“Well, it’s still a prototype; functional, but not optimized or completely reliable. Besides, it’ll be a constant work in progress to update the database.” He pointed the antenna to the notebook, and they waited.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Hm.” He pointed it to Lena, then, the thing beeped twice, and words appeared on its monochromatic screen:

 

Energy: _Spiritual_

_Subclass: Shield [95% match]_

_Rate: 15%_  


“Wow, it really works! What does it say?” Lena jumped to Winston’s side, tugging at his sleeve so she’d be able to see the screen.

“You have energy shielding you. Quite strongly, I might add - the device says it’s 15% of the energy it capts on you.”

“That must be Ana’s doing.” Emily suggested, crossing her arms. “Anything else?”

Winston brought the device up and down Lena’s body, but the only thing that did was to make the shield rate fluctuate as the receiving end of the antenna captated the variation in energy waves.

“I’m afraid not.” Unpretentiously, Winston fiddled with the thing a bit and pointed it towards Emily. As expected, it beeped twice and gave a new reading:  


_Energy: Spiritual_

_Subclass: [Not enough data]_

_Rate: 53%_

 

_Energy: Abyssal_

_Subclass: [Not enough data]_

_Rate: 49%_

 

_Energy: Celestial_

_Subclass: Ward [79% match]_

_Rate: 6%_

 

“You got a lot of Abyssal energy in you Emily, are you okay?” Winston looked from the device to her, visibly worried, but also curious.

“Oh, don’t worry. One doesn’t get a body through regular magic.” She shrugged. “So, your thing is working, but there’s nothing weird with Lena?”

“It looks like it, yeah.” He nodded.

“Wait, hold on a moment. Abyssal energy isn’t like, demonic or something?” Lena got in between them, looking from one to the other, “How can that be okay?”

“Not demonic, no. Demons are a race that uses abyssal energy, but it’s not exclusive to them, as celestial energy isn’t exclusive to angels and guardians.” Emily explained, sitting on Lena’s bed and bringing some other notebooks to her lap. “May I take a look at the other drawings?”

“Sure. But like, is it safe?” Lena asked again.

“Are fighter jets safe?” Emily gave her a playful look. “It’s a tool, you just have to know what you’re doing with it.”

Lena hummed in acknowledgement, but she wasn’t completely convinced. Fighter jets were deadly, that was the point of them, so the comparison didn’t do all that much to tranquilize her... She’d have to trust Emily on that.

Winston was scanning Lena’s room with the device, but it looked like there was nothing out of the ordinary in the place, too. She sat down by Emily and watched her skim through the pages and offer commentary on some of the drawings (especially the ones that popped here and there of her, especially the ones not safe for work), leading to not so subtle promises regarding some of the situations drawn, which, of course, made Lena really flustered but completely into it.

“This one is really cute. Is the girl in the adventurer outfit you?” Emily pointed to the drawing of a short-haired woman in a kind of Indiana Jones-esque outfit: boots, shirt, vest, a gun in its holster and a hat that just screamed adventure movies.

“Well, kinda?” Lena shrugged, giggling. “Sometimes I make these silly stories in my head where I’m this dashing adventurer, you see…”

“ I do.” Emily grinned, her eyes soft but still playful. She turned the page. “Oh, there’s more! Is this-- look at the eyes, _of course_ it’s Amélie. In a pompous cloak with furs? I _like_ that. And what are you doing here, are you finding her laying in an abandoned place?”

“Actually, er… It’s a temple. She’s like, the… Slumbering goddess the adventurer wakes…”

“She’d get so smug if she heard that, but truth is, it suits her.” She chuckled. “What happens then?”

“I, uh…”

“Why so flustered, darling? Do you two have some hot ritualistic sex or something?”

“Em!” Lena squealed, hiding her face with her hands.

“What? Aren’t you the lady killer of the neighborhood? Don’t worry, I’m really into you two going down on each other...!”

“ _AHEM.”_ Winston was giving them a exasperated look from the other side of the room, where he was taking a series of cables out of his bag. “I’d really appreciate if you waited until I’m out to have this kind of conversation.”

“Sorry Winston, I’ll behave - but just because it’s you.” Emily winked.

“Anyway, we _don’t_ have sex. It’s just… Silly. I’ve never told this stuff to anybody.” Lena messed with her hair and talked like it was an apology, and that made Emily back down a bit.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, then.” She took a mesh of hair out of Lena’s forehead.” You don’t have to tell if you’re not comfortable. Just so you know, I don’t think it’s silly at all - adorable, rather.”

“...Do you really want to know?” Lena asked quietly.

“I really, really do.”

“The adventurer takes the goddess to see the world. She wasn’t awaken for the last two thousand years, so a lot has changed and she wants to see it all.”

“That’s very sweet.” She kissed Lena’s forehead, then turned the page and gasped. “This…!”

“What?” Lena took a peek at the drawing (there was nothing wrong with it, apparently) and back at Emily.

“You’ve never seen me wearing this.”

She pointed to what obviously was Lena’s version of her in the story: a ginger with her hair cascading over a shoulder, wearing a white dress in greek style and teal sort of shawl over it.

Lena blinked. “That’s the Trickster… Wait. You _have_ something like that?”

Emily didn’t answer. Instead she dematerialized, leaving Lena’s question in the air.

“Uh…”

“Look behind you, darling.”

She came back a moment later, wearing an outfit that was in every sense similar to the one Lena had drawn, except it was real and had interesting details like the slightly adularescence of the green shawl, the darker patterns on it, the jewelry on her arms and fingers… Lena stared mesmerized.

“You look like a bloody greek goddess!” She gasped.

Winston looked up from his intricate work setting up one of his machines and was positively surprised. “Wow. What Lena said is true, Emily. You look very pretty.”

“Of course it’s true, Big Guy!” Lena gave him a look. “I don’t lie, okay?!”

“But you’re biased.” Emily chuckled at the incredulous face she made. “Anyway, this is it - my formal muse attire.”

“Has Amé seen it? Because she _definitely_ has to.” Lena searched for her phone in her pockets.

“More importantly” Winston cut her out “That’s another drawing Lena made before an event.”

“That’s true. There may be more - can I keep looking?” Emily asked, serious.

“As long as I can keep looking at you, luv…” She replied with a finger gun, and that made Emily giggle and reach out, bringing her in for a quick kiss.

Actually not so quick.

Actually, not so quick and just a bit naughty.

...Or a lot.

“ _AHEM.”_ Winston put a hand in his forehead. He looked a bit frustrated. “I’d prefer if we did the searching today, since I brought the machinery, but I could leave you two alone…”

“Oh no, sorry Winston!”  Lena almost tumbled in her words, a bit wobbly and completely flustered as she was. “Please do your job!”

Emily chuckled and shook her head. Lena finally found her phone and busied himself with taking photos of her beautiful girl.

“Keep looking for other drawings.” Winston asked, finishing plugging cables to the small but heavy machine on the floor. “The more pieces we have the better.”

“Time to delve into the lewd stuff again, huh?” Emily wriggled her eyebrows.

Lena only giggled. “If we _really_ have to…”  


\--

 

It took a little more than expected, but at last they had all the drawings suspected to be mystical in nature cataloged in photos, four sketchbooks open on the floor, along with sheets with other drawings, and Winston’s machine ready.

“Do you really think I somehow drew the future?” Lena asked, taking a look at a drawing of McCree with an arrow in his cowboy hat, looking outraged as he shouted _“He shot his dragons at me!”._ It was drawn a week before she saw that scene at the pub, if she remembered the dates correctly. How could she do something like that?

“Most likely.” Winston checked a small screen on the machine on the floor. “The curious thing is how there’s no energy trace on them… There should be some, clairvoyance is definitely a magic ability.”

“Maybe it’s too faint to notice yet? After all, Lena didn’t even know she was doing anything of the sort.” Emily suggested.

“No, the differentiator could miss it, but not this machine.” Winston gave a light pat at the thing. “It’d know there was something, even if it wouldn’t be able to discern types - and I believe you and Ana would have noticed something as well, no?”

“Fair point.” She shook her head.

“But, like, there isn’t any kind of undetectable magic?” Lena asked.

“No. Just magic that dissipates faster than others.” Everybody turned to the door: Ana was there, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and by her side stood a very curious Amélie.

“How did you… ah, nevermind. Everyone comes and goes in this house anyway…!” Lena rolled her eyes. “Hi Amé! How was the lunch?”

She couldn’t answer right away, because Emily practically jumped then kissed her, so she was a bit busy at the moment.

“So, what are you trying to find out here?” Ana walked into the room, taking a look at the whole mess and turning to Winston for answers.

“Lena has been drawing things before they happen, but we can’t pinpoint what’s causing it…”

Lena didn’t pay attention to their conversation. In fact, she was barely registering it, focused as she was in watching Amélie and Emily kissing, then holding each other and exchanging some sweet words. The way Emily giggled and Amélie tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, how they looked at each other full of love and wonder… It warmed her heart, and it was kind of crazy, when you thought that one of them was her girlfriend, but in the end Lena just wanted both of them to be happy.

“How was is?” Emily finally asked, searching Amélie’s eyes for any sign of sadness or disappointment. She found a lively sparkle instead, and that was how she knew things had gone well.

“Marie offered me a job!” Amélie opened a wide smile. “We’ll have some things to settle, but if everything goes well, I’ll be working as a dance master for the Royal Ballet!”

“Oh Amé, that’s amazing!” Emily squeezed her, then started giving her peck after peck, making her chuckle.

“Hey you two, I wanna know what’s going on!” Lena finally interrupted, jumping from bed and nudging them out of the bedroom. It was too crowded for three humans, a muse and a gorilla.

“Amé got a job at the ballet!” Emily sing-sang.

“Not exactly yet, but…”

“No way! Congratulations!” Lena threw herself at Amélie, hugging her waist tight. “So you’re going to move here for real, right?!”

“I haven’t thought about that yet.” Amélie raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I’ll start looking for houses...”

“Great! I have some nice tips for you to-- _ARGH!_ ”

Lena held the sides of her head strongly, like she was trying to keep it from splitting in two. She bended forward and howled in pain, and Amélie was quick to hold her.

“Lena!” She tried to keep her from falling, but it was difficult the way she got her.

Lena didn’t even notice she wasn’t falling anymore. Her ears were buzzing, her stomach, turning, and her eyes were going in and out of focus. At last she went limp in Amélie’s arms, unconscious, and left Emily and Amélie calling for the others, to take her to the hospital as fast as they could...  


\--

  
  



	26. Chapter 26

“You were there with us, did you see anything?”

“No more than you, Emily. Sorry about that.”

Emily sighed heavily, then shook her head. “There has to be something we’re missing.”

She paced on the small space besides Lena’s stretcher, where the doctors were making exams. It was good to be a spirit at the moment - she could stomp around without worrying that she’d collide with someone or something, and she could keep an eye on Lena the whole time. Her girl looked fine after that initial collapse, but they were keeping her sleeping just in case. Fainting like that was not something to be taken lightly.

There with them, leaning on the wall and also watching the doctors’ every move, was Lena’s muse. She appeared sometimes when Lena was drawing to give some pointer or idea, she was fun, quite cool, sarcastic, and no matter the form she took she always had a fluorescent mohawk - the exact sort of person you’d expect to hang around Lena.

She’d been there taking a look at all those drawings with them when the fainting happened. The only difference was that she was still inside the room, so she could see Winston and Ana messing with a weird stone full of energy right when it happened, and she shared this curious fact with Emily, who relayed the message to the mortals.

Ana felt particularly guilty knowing her testing the stone was probably related to the whole episode. Winston took her out in order to research more and maybe find out something conclusive this time, and also to try and take her mind out of things. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t have known.

Amélie and Emily stayed with Lena the whole time she was at the hospital, be it in exams or not, physically or not.

“What could we be missing?” the mohawk lady replied, staring at Emily with frustration painting her dark eyes a rust-orange. “We don’t even know what exactly we’re dealing with, and without this info, it's a walk in the dark.”

“If this keeps up I swear by the Nine I’ll end up going to fucking Arakhne…”

The muse chuckled quite surprised, but always chill. “I didn’t know you were this eager to die, huh.”

Emily gave her a playful look, yet her eyes were full of a silver certainty. “For the right people I’d die twice, darling. Now, I’m gonna go check on Amé real quick. Take a look at Lena for me, yes?”

The mohawk muse shrugged slightly, and watched as her colleague passed straight through the wall and went to the waiting room to talk to her mortal girlfriend.

No wonder people were so worked up with Emily at the Houses. She was beautifully crazy, flirting with mortality like that, dancing through the line between spirit and flesh like the show was hers, knowing full well it wasn’t. The Higher Muse herself had her back, people whispered everywhere, but they also knew the wills of higher beings could be fickle - it took one word for them to punish her hubris, and great would be the fall, history showed.

Still, it was beautiful to watch such passionate foolishness. Emily really loved those two - and, as far as she could say, it was very justified for her to love Lena at least, she was one of a kind - and it would be very nice if everything went well for them. If not… Well, there were plenty of constellations the astronomers were yet to discover, she was sure. She hoped they made nice ones out of them.  


\--

 

There was something wrong. She knew her body was there because it was heavy against a soft surface, probably a couch or a mattress. Things sounded muffled, as if she was underwater, but maybe there were people talking around her. Opening her eyes was simply too difficult, they didn’t cooperate with her brain. Everything was drifting away so gently...

When she woke up for real, the first thing she noticed was that she was in a hospital room, and she tried to sit. Amélie raised her eyes from her phone and immediately got up from the armchair to prevent her for doing so.

“You’re awake!”Amélie flashed her a relieved smile.

“Might not be for long.” Lena yawned, and her voice had all the quality of a drugged person. “What happened…?”

“We don’t really know. A lot of strange things.”

“What sort of… Oh!” Lena’s eyes widened. “I gotta tell you, there was a person there with me!”

“Pardon me?”

“On the car that day! The race! There was this woman’s voice mocking me before my head broke!”

“What?!”

Lena would’ve jumped when Emily just appeared by her side, but she was laying down and just did an awkward flip instead.

“Are you sure?” Emily added.

“Yeah! But I can’t remember much, it slips…” She frowned. “Why am I at the hospital? Did my head go bad again?”

The other two girls looked at each other, then back at her.

“Well, no.” Amélie started. “When we got here, the doctors said your brain had no sign of that sort of strain for the last days, but what happened was exactly like it.”

“Except there was something more this time. You, mm… How do I describe that…?” Emily made a pause, looking down. “You fell and Amé got you, but then you started… Going backwards. Literally reversing the movement, as if you were rewinding a blue and foggy video, then you stood suspended for a second and crashed right to the floor, unconscious.”

Lena stared at her with a very confused expression.

 _“...What?_ ”

“Well, uh, you know how when you--”

“No, no, I got it!” Lena raised her hands to stop her. “ But, like, _what?_ How is this even possible? I’m just a common girl, this has never happened before!”

Amélie picked her hand and squeezed, reassuringly. “Your friends Ana and Winston say they traced something when it happened. Hopefully they’ll be able to answer your questions.”

Emily, who at this point was writing a note for Ana, raised her head and nodded. “I’m writing what you said about having a person with you in the car here, you show this to Ana.”

Okay.” Lena watched her writing for a moment and then sighed. “I’m sorry… This was a pretty cool day for Amé and I ruined it…”

The Amélie in question scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Like you could control when bad things happen. Frankly, Lena. Besides, I have plenty of time to be happy when you’re healthy and well, which seems to be the case, by the way. See, I’m happy.”

The level of sass in those last statements made Emily snicker. “And you say I’m a dork.”

“Oh, but you are. You both are.”

“And you love us.” Lena replied.

“Do I?” Amélie raised an eyebrow, clearly messing with her.

Lena showed her the tongue.

Shortly after a doctor came in, seeking to take Lena to have some exams made. She mumbled about all her hospital visits costing Winston way too much money, but Amélie quickly made her quiet by threatening to pay the bills herself. Emily, joining in, teased that Lena had gotten one hell of a sugar mama, and Amélie didn’t look opposed to the idea at all. That was when the doctor put Lena in a wheelchair (just to be safe) and took her out of the room. Amélie went with them as a companion, and Emily vanished - to also go with them, but sidestepping the one-companion rule. It was made only for the physical companions, anyway.  


\--

 

Nothing worrisome was found. That made the doctors more worried than the alternative, and it resulted in even more tests and exams, an exhausting cruzade that only resulted in them learning that Lena was in a quite good shape physically, and there really wasn’t anything wrong with her mind aside from the damage they already knew about. Her mental activity was at normal levels, her eyesight was a bit divided but within the expected margin… It was really a mystery how she could have had an attack like that and seemingly recover completely in a matter of hours, when simpler, less dangerous things left visible mental marks even days after.

A mystery, Lena was: a woman who sustained brain damage that should’ve killed her, recovered, even if with some damage, made a relatively common life for herself… And now showed signs of an yet unknown type of power through her drawings. Oh, and there was an unknown entity with its eyes on her, as a bonus. To make things interesting.

Emily was sure to tell her that in between exams, where she’d appear to casually. Lena replied that all that mystery was a right pain in the ass, to be honest, and she’d be happy to trade the consequences of it anytime for a cup of hot tea.

Then, Emily said _she_ was a consequence of that, in a way; they probably wouldn’t have met otherwise, or, if they did, she doubted Lena would be passing through that bridge the day she saved Amélie - rather, she’d be in a military base, working for the RAF. Lena immediately gasped and remade her words: She didn’t want to get rid of them for anything in the world, she didn’t mean to imply that, she--

Emily silenced her with a quick kiss. _“I know.”_ She said, giggling. _“I know.”_

The fact that Lena didn’t stagger the slightly to say the words, the way her feelings hopped from alarm to horror to plead and then relief… She was such a lovely woman. She deserved everything good in the world.

She also deserved the sweet, sweet stare Amélie was directing at them both, but Emily didn’t think she’d catch such a thing going on. A bit unexpected, but not at all unpleasant - it confirmed some things. Oh, they’d definitely have a fun talk about it...

That reminded her of something she’d been thinking of in the past few days, and how it would align well with this new talk she’d like to have with Amélie. As the concern with Lena faded and how she told them herself she didn’t want to be a bother and they should go on with their days, it was easy to snatch Amélie away promising they’d be back before dinnertime.

Just like that they were off, on the condition they told Lena of any adventures they had, afterwards. She was curious, after all.  


\--  


Emily made a point of not saying where they were going, but Amélie thought it was somewhere casual: a nice pub with live music, a play, or even an expensive store where she could revel in trying exquisite dresses and buying them all, like rich people do. She didn’t expect to be taken to a small mansion outside the center of the city, painted in light colors and with no visible signs to indicate its business. When they entered, she definitely wasn’t thinking it might be _that._

A dance studio.

As soon as her eyes spotted the banners, darted to the flyers neatly arranged on the counter at the entrance and flew to the words crafted in metal and affixed to the wall behind the receptionist, she looked back at her girlfriend with comically cute surprise. Emily bore the brightest of smiles, the look in her eyes of a mellow golden-green-blue towards her.

They’d agreed to look for places where she could train, but it looked like Emily went ahead and wanted to surprise her with it. She also went ahead to talk with the receptionist and make arrangements, leaving Amélie to look around the entrance hall. She picked up one of the flyers: it showed some of the rooms they had for rental, all repurposed for dance practice, talked about satisfaction, quality and all the array of things one mentions when attempting to sell something. It didn’t speak of prices, nor she asked - being rich was very good, most of the times.

“We’ll have to wait for a room as I wanted, but it might not take too long.” Emily came back to her and she looked up. “I hate to ask it, but…”

“You need to pay for it?”

Emily looked embarrassed, but she nodded. Amélie chuckled at that, looking for her credit card, and delivered it to her like it was a mere low value note. “You know the password, _ma coeur._ But what is this about a room as you want?”

“Wait and you’ll see.” She winked and left for the counter again.

Amélie had to wait for a bit more than half an hour, and when they arrived at the room, it was beautiful, yes, but nothing out of ordinary: beautiful wooden floor, a mirror wall, huge windows that provided both ventilation and light, a white grand piano, a decent sound system. It was far from a modest place, true, but she couldn’t really tell why Emily chose it in particular.

Her confusion was so evident she thought Emily would chuckle and joke, or maybe dance around it with words, as she usually did. Instead she saw her delightfully assertive muse hesitate and bite her lip, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, and that was how she knew it was probably something important - and personal. Emily always got this unsure when it had to do with herself.

Amélie wanted to tell her it was okay, she'd love to hear whatever was on her mind, but Emily started talking before she had the chance to do it.

“I’ve been thinking on your words some days ago. That I didn’t have a problem being open with Lena, but had it with you.” She started walking towards the other end of the room slowly, Amélie following her. “It was kinda true, and I didn’t like that. I’m not favouring any of you, and it shouldn’t feel like it. Ever.”  
  
“That was not what I was trying to imply, _chérie._ ” Amélie shot her a worried look.   
  
“I know, but it felt like it was true, and I wanted to do something about it…” She looked away to the window, and her stare was suddenly very distant. “You know, there were two things I fantasized the most way before I decided to get down here. One was to dance with you.” She chuckled faintly; if you thought about it, it was such a trivial request… But completely impossible under common circumstances for them. How fickle was destiny that they were to accomplish it years later? ” The second…”

“Yes…?”

“...I wanted to play for you.”

A soft gasp - Amélie certainly wasn't expecting anything like that - and they locked eyes, golden against pale blue. The plea hanged in the air between them for a moment, making Emily’s stomach drop; that had been a terrible idea, she should've never--

“You spoil me.” Amélie picked her hand and kissed it, humming. “I'd love to hear you.”

The relieved smile and the way Emily turned bursting with energy to the piano right to the side of them - and Amélie finally noticed they'd stopped right at that point because of the instrument - went miles to say how much of a deal that was for the muse. She opened the fall board and ran her fingers lightly through the marbled keys, pressing some of them to test the sound. It was clear, the tuning was right and it reverberated pleasantly through the room.

Emily took another glance at Amélie as she sat at the piano, looking for a last sign of approval. She found a soft sign of infatuation, a curious expectancy and a quick nod; then she turned to the instrument.

Amélie sat at the edge of the bench, waiting.

“Play for me, my muse.” She whispered.

It was all Emily needed to start. Sometimes, even muses need a bit of encouragement.

The song was sad, but not placid. Its melody was like a windy day walking on the beach, looking at the horizon. it felt like longing, grief lurking below the feelings, skimming the surface. At the same time, it felt like letting go of it, running away, crying your heart out, feeling the tear in your chest and letting it bleed out. It would be okay… There was someone there for support. It hurt, but it could heal. It _would_ heal.

Before long, tears were pooling at Amélie’s eyes. It was such a beautiful thing, that song. It reminded her of Gerárd.

Only when the last notes echoed down she let herself slip an arm behind Emily’s waist and bring her close, sighing in an awkward embrace. After a moment of silence, the muse finally risked making the question she had in mind:

“So... You like it?” Emily asked quietly, passing a hand through her hair.

“Very much.”

“I made it for you.”

Amélie raised her face slowly, visibly impressed. “You _made_ it? You- You composed this?”

Emily nodded, but looked away. She was clearly embarrassed, in a very unnatural way for her. “Well… Yes?”

“For me.”

“Yeah.”

_“Mon dieu, coeur, je t’aime à la folie…!”_

Amélie brought her in for a tight hug. How many more hidden talents she’d find within her muse? A pianist… She wouldn’t have guessed.

“It’s something all muses learn sooner or later. Playing an instrument, I mean.” Emily explained, quietly. ”And that’s something I haven’t showed Lena. Not yet, anyway.”

“That was a surprise even for me… I’d expect something less traditional from you, maybe the drums. Lena’s going to love it, I’m sure - who wouldn’t? How could anyone not love it, not love _you_ ?”   
  
She chuckled and shook her head. “You sound like an enamored teenager, darling.”

“I am, right now.” Amélie kissed her shoulder and took some distance to look at her. “If I had my gear here, I’d make you play for me to dance.”

“You know that’s exactly what I intend to do from now on, right?” She opened an excited, almost puppy-like smile, Lena style. “Warm you a bit with Chopin, then something nice and soft for the _pliés,_ as you like it, followed by an _allegro_ , maybe Liszt...”

“Why don’t you show me these songs, then? We have a whole hour.”

“You spoil me, _chérie_.” Emily repeated Amélie’s words and snickered before directing her attention back to the piano.

The first notes of Chopin’s Nocturne no.2 filled the room, and everything was more than right in the world, at last.

 

\--  


Everything was wrong.

Lena hated waiting. Worse yet, she hated waiting when she had nothing to do, so the hour she spent after Emily and Amélie left the hospital felt like an eternity for her - a boring, pitiful eternity.

Winston and Ana weren't back from whatever they were when she was cleared to go home, so she had to call and inform them, otherwise she wasn't leaving. Why there was a rule that she had to leave with someone else when it was stated that she was okay? She had absolutely no clue, and it was very annoying to wait even more because of that.

Lena let out a weary, deep sigh. She just wanted to go home and throw herself on the bed, honestly.

“ _Ay chica_ , what's with the sad face? The monkey and the hag should be here anytime now.”

“Sombra!”

Lena was too busy sulking in a corner of the waiting room to see her friend arriving, but she was very pleased to have her there. Sombra looked as smug as ever while she leaned on the armrest of the chair in front of Lena's, even as she ate from a bag of spicy peanuts.

“Yeah, me. What a surprise, huh? You landed yourself in a hospital yet again.”

“Oi, it was not my fault, okay? Besides, you didn't even call after the accident.” Lena crossed her arms and shot her an unimpressed look.

Sombra chuckled. “What, with your girlfriends, the neighbors and the monkey all over you? No thanks, you already had all the support you needed right there. Besides, not calling didn't mean I wasn't keeping an eye on you, _colibri.”_ She winked. “Peanuts?”

“Uh no, thanks. That surveillance thing is creepy, you know?” Lena frowned.

“Eh, not really. It's not like I big brother you; I just take a look sometimes, you know, to make sure you're okay.”

“Yeah, right, that does sound like what a creep would say.”

Sombra just shrugged. “I guess. But do you know why I'm here now?”

“Probably not to make sure I'm okay, I guess.” Lena paraphrased it with a lot of irony going on, so maybe Sombra would catch the hint. She was forgetting that her friend just didn't care, so it was very ineffective.

“Because someone’s gotta be smart, and it's not the hag and the monkey, of course. Did you know they're hours inside a library looking at dusty relics of who knows when in order to find scraps to make sense of what they say is your power? Tsk.” She cackled. “Have they not heard of the internet?”

Lena's eyes widened. “What do you know about this? And _how_?”

“I told ya _colibri_ , sometimes I take looks and information _is_ my thing, so I thought I'd drop by and help.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Lena leaned towards her, unconsciously. “...And what do you got?” Even if the level of knowledge and surveillance Sombra seemed to have was unsettling, she was too curious not to want to know. Of course her friend knew that and got even smugger, the brat.

“I got this.” She took a flash drive out of an inner pocket of her coat and extended it to Lena, making a proud gesture towards it. “Way more informative than anything they can hope to find.”

Lena picked it up and turned it into her fingers. “Okay, but what’s inside?”

“Get it on a computer and find out for yourself” She winked and  got up, stretching. “I’m gonna bail - oh, by the way, I bought you a hot chocolate. You just have to go pick it up at the cafeteria.”

“So one more thing I’ll have to wait for, thank you!” Lena groaned. She mused on the possibility of throwing the flash drive at Sombra, but she didn’t want to risk damaging the thing. Besides, her aim was shit because of a slightly messed up sense of depth that came with her condition, so she’d better not try to hit a distancing target or anything else, really. Damn.

Would her friends take too much longer to get there and pick her up?!  


\--  


There was only one file in the flashdrive. Ana, Lena and Winston gathered around the computer, and the elderly woman scoffed.  
  
“That’s her help?” She said, disdainful. “Please.”

“Let me open it before you go on a rant.” Lena raised an eyebrow and clicked the icon. A window with what looked like an official document from the police came up.

 

_Incident Report 0103926_

_Code 34D - Unauthorized manufacturing of magical devices_

_Code 12A - Suppression and reparation of magical damage_

_Damage: Yes - contained_ _Level: 5-6_

_Isolate area? Yes - no further action necessary_

_Victims: Yes - status unknown_

_Arrived at Dalloway Street 72 at 1654, house showed no sign of any disturbance on the outside. No one answered the door, so, per protocol, we broke in after the stipulated amount of time. At first everything looked normal, but the further we walked in, the more evident it became that a magical accident had occurred, as shown in exhibits [A-D]. We found stairs to the basement and descended, the level of damage in them an indicative of where the epicentre of the accident took place. Our magic detection apparel indicated a high level of energy, but nothing harmful, so we used the standard approach._

_We landed in a destroyed lab on the basement, as shown in exhibits [E-L]. The destroyed machine was located at the center of the room, and there were four people around it, flickering in and out of view in different stages of falling or running. The machine also had parts of it being expelled, flickering and restarting their movement, as it’s better shown in exhibit [M]._

_The signs characterized a possible chronal distortion, probably caused by the malfunction and subsequent explosion of the machine. We started work with some identifying spells(...)_

  
  
The report went on describing the method the magical police squad used to detect, contain and reverse the anomaly as much as they could, but Lena didn’t want to read about that - her eyes laid a bit too long on the words “chronal distortion”, then she darted to the end of the document, searching for the exhibits.

There were photos of objects hanging in the air mid-fall, a cup of glass, a bowl and some books from a shelf; the photo of a staircase with its wooden steps twisting and cracking, splinters frozen in the air; and the very impressive photos of the aforementioned destroyed lab, enveloped in a chaos of broken glass, paper, metal and wood, everything clicked at the exact moment they were expelled by a blast of energy. Then, there was exhibit M: a video.

It was very eerie, like something out of a surrealist painting: the elements clicked in the previous photo now moved outwards in slow motion amongst an explosion, but reached a certain point they started rewinding for themselves, like a video effect. And the people! After some moments showing that weird dynamic the person recording the video switched to showing the four people around, and the situation was even stranger with them: they appeared and reappeared in flashes of white and blue light, their movements cropped like a stop-motion animation, and they also rewinded that, but at different paces from one another and the explosion.

Lena’s stomach turned. That much motion and flashing made her sick, mostly because of her eyes, but there was something else, she was sure, something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. Ana and Winston, though, looked like they were having a group epiphany, if the way they stared at the screen was any indicative.

“Why didn’t I think of testing for that?!” Winston said at last, putting a hand on his forehead. “Do you think the stone has any energy left, Ana?”

“No it doesn’t - but even if it did, we wouldn’t be testing on it anymore. It’s caused harm enough.”

“Harm?” Lena turned to face them, glad she had somewhere to focus besides the screen.

“Yeah, uh, your muse told Emily that us testing the receptacle stone probably triggered its energy and made you faint. It’s a guess, but if it’s gonna hurt you…” Winston looked at her with an apologetic tone, and Ana scoffed.  
  
“I told you, it doesn’t have energy left. Lena, otherwise…” Ana gave her an interested look, and suddenly Lena felt like a lab rat. Worse yet, a lab rat with some gross anomaly.

Well, it’s not like we’re gonna know otherwise, right?” She shrugged.

Winston’s expression lightened with excitement. “I’ll get the right equipment at home and be right back!”

He ran out of the room with the subtlety of a rhinoceros, and it was a wonder that he didn’t demolish any of the furniture before getting out of the house.

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Lena, I’d like to have a little chat with you about your sneaky friend.”

“Who, Em?” Lena tilted her head.

“No, that’s the Ginger, you’re practically married already” Ana rolled her eyes “I’m talking about that Sombra.”

“Ah! Yeah, I figured you’d be worried about the flashdrive…” She scratched her nape.

“Less the flashdrive and more how she knew what to look for when we didn’t have a clue.”

“She said you and Winston were hours into the library, I guess she overheard you talking or something through those hacker shenanigans of hers.”  Lena shrugged.

“It still doesn't explain how she knew what it was. That woman is all kinds of trouble!”

“Yeah, I know that - but she's still my friend. Are you implying what, that she made me race? Or, better yet, that she was the person mocking me in the car?” Lena gave her a look. “What she told us is useful, maybe it’ll help figuring out things. She’s not trying to kill me.”

“Which person mocking you in the car…?” Ana furrowed her brow.

Lena facepalmed. Damn, she totally forgot to tell Ana again, and this time Emily had even written a memo! “I remembered something when I fainted this time. There was this voice at some point in the race, when I was really focusing on not having a catastrophic breakdown on the wheel. It was mocking me, but I can't really remember the words now.”"

Ana's expression was stern, and the way she focused her good eye on Lena was unsettling, like she was trying to squeeze info right out of her brain with it. “Make an effort, child, this is important. Was it male, female? Did you feel anything else along with the words, did it feel like it was burning, was it velvety or scrappy, or… Well, you get the idea. Anything you can remember is good, it doesn't matter how small.”

Lena crisped her lips, shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on the memory. It was really strange, though, that the more she tried to envision the details, the more it all slipped from her grasp. “I can’t remember… I think… It was female? Sickening sweet? And there were some shadows on the corners of my eyes but I didn’t turn to look, I had to focus on not fainting…” She opened her eyes and sighed. “Does it help?”

The crease in Ana’s brow only deepened as she went in deep thought. Lena waited, a bit anxious for the lack of an answer. She picked up her phone and noticed there were some messages from Amélie, so she gladly opened them.

What she saw there made her eyes go wide and her face burn, from the forehead to the neck and all the way to the ears.

“Bloody hell…!” Lena whispered to herself. “The wankers! Ana, can we do this later, I _really_ have to swear at those two in private!”

Ana was completely taken out of her train of thought by the angry British noises. She blinked and stared, confused. “What-- What happened? What did they do?”

“They’re having _my_ kind of fun and sending me the pictures!” She squealed, so downright outraged it was adorable. “Oh fuck, now there’s a video-- ooooh, I’m _so_ gonna show them something!”

“Will you? Are you cleared to do that?” Ana gave her an amused look.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“I see. Be sure to get some lube with that ‘something’.” She chuckled.

“Excuse me-- I’m gonna get a cab, get to Angela’s house and smack them!”

“No you won’t, you’ll wait for Winston to come back and do his thing.”  She gesticulated calmily. “Control the boner for once, woman, don’t let it control you.”

Lena looked like she was going to reply, but groaned in frustration instead. “You say that because it’s not you they’re teasing.” She mumbled. “Can I at least be alone for a moment?”

Ana raised an eyebrow and got up slowly, groaning at her tired joints. “Be presentable for when Winston arrives, okay? I’m going to wait in the living room.”

She went out and without a further delay, Lena ran for the door, locked it and connected headphones to her cellphone, in order to watch that peculiar piece of video Amélie sent her. Something she told her at the Opera came to mind, something involving having Lena tied up and watching them… Damn French snob, she had it her way in the end.

Lena smiled.

She’d demand a reenacting of the events shown with her present, when they met. It was only fair.

 

\--

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I imagined Emily playing first was [Porz Goret - Yann Tiersen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDdpTvu1omg).
> 
> It just felt so Amélie, I had to use it.
> 
> The second song is [Nocturne op.9 No.2 - Chopin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWgl).
> 
> Did anyone notice I have a thing for music? Because I think it's like, _starting_ to show...
> 
> Also, fun fact: When I decided Emily was going to play the piano, Porz Goret was pretty much the first song I got for Amélie and it stuck. It wasn't that easy to find something for Lena, though: I currently have three songs that kinda fit in my mind, but I'm still searching for something perfect. Maybe not having one, but a lot, is more like her? She _is_ a mess of a lot of adorable things, after all... =3c


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am here to say this chapter has a lot of NSFW. Namely, the events that led to Lena receiving some very naughty photos last chapter. If you want to read the chapter and skip the NSFW parts, it ends a bit before the middle of it.
> 
> Good reading!

Somewhere very far from Lena’s flat, before Ana asked her about a person in a car and she received some very peculiar messages, two lovers stood in a repurposed mansion turned dance studio. Emily had just finished playing _La valse d’Amélie_ on the piano (and yes, she did it because of the name - and also because it was a lovely song) and her particular Amélie was holding her tight by the waist, still very impressed by the whole thing.

A long moment passed where they were quiet, just enjoying the warmth and care from each other, until an idea came to Amélie's mind: five simple words that made Emily’s legs tremble and her heart race in anticipation.

“Would you dance for me?” Amélie whispered softly in her ear, smiling at the shiver it caused and the way the muse gasped.

Emily immediately felt like a student at her first performance, the crowd on the other side of the curtain frightening her to death. Except it wasn’t a crowd - It was the woman, the _dancer_ she loved. Her Amélie. Just the fact that it was her asking her to dance filled her with a melting, almost obscene feeling of satisfaction.

Still, taking the stage when she should be the one watching from the side felt weird and quite wrong...  But she wanted to do it. She wouldn't miss an opportunity to show herself, especially when it was Amélie whispered like that, only for her.

She gave Amélie a quick glance and a fond smile, nodded and left for the center of the room. What was she going to perform? If she was going to dance for her gorgeous lady, there was a point on being a bit extra, no? And she had just the thing to show: There was something she’d been dancing for herself for a while. She could use that.

A spin of her hand, and the stereo further down the room came to life: it played an odd orchestral song, bearing the sort of harmonies that put one’s mind into ancient civilizations, mystery and forbidden love. Accordingly, Emily’s first movements were the hand flourishes of an arabic dance, ever fluid, ever alluring, paired with the slow steps of a careful advancer.

The song turned to a quiet piano and vocals, and Emily stared at Amélie with a sharp certainty.

 

_And so,_

_I was born to love this woman_

_And the hands outstretched_

_about these ageing nights_

 

She walked towards her with a snake’s fluidity, extending a hand in a soft, soft motion.

 

_And so,_

_I was born to love this woman_

Stroked Amélie’s cheek and dropped to her knees, a wild being tamed by softness...

_From the dawning spark_

_my love has held this heart of mine_

 

Rested the back of her head in Amélie’s lap, and as the violin joined in to make the music grow, she ran light fingers down her arms, bringing her hands to her lips, placing a kiss on each palm.

A halt in the song.

A sharp piano sequence, foreshadowing conflict.

Emily slipped away to the side, using the momentum to spin and get back to her feet. There were the hypnotizing hand gestures again, promising love, warmth and care.

When the crashing beating of the drums and metal instruments added a heavy weight to the melody, she pulled away as if yanked by an invisible hand.

 

_I was born to love you_

 

She hugged herself and looked down, visibly conflicted, and to Amélie, expectant.

 

_I was born to love you_

 

Tried to run to her, but went spinning down to the other side before reaching down.

 

_I was born to love you_

 

Came circling, but fell right at her feet.

 

_I was born..._

 

Rolled to a safe distance and collected herself, arching her shoulders as if the weight of the world rested on them. Tried again to reach her. And again. And again, in an increasingly frantic mix of ballet and free movements, to match the mood of the song.

Until, of course, Amélie got up and went to her, extending a hand. When Emily took it, they spiraled towards each other until they were face to face, noses touching.

“I’m not letting you drift away like this, not even in dance.” Amélie whispered, her breath crossing Emily’s. “You’re mine, _chérie_.”

The way Emily shivered at the words was very noticeable.

“I have been for a long time.”

Amélie’s reply was a deep, passionate kiss.

“So I have a lot to make up to.” She smiled.

 

\--

 

The door slammed open. They were far too occupied to pay attention to that.

Emily let her hands move freely below Amélie’s shirt, pressing and scratching her belly as they went into the room. Amélie tried to find the door blindly with a hand, and it took her three attempts before it was slammed closed.

Next thing, she was pushing Emily on the mattress and stopping to admire the beautiful view that her muse made, disheveled, breathless and lustful like that.

“You’re gorgeous, _chérie._ ” She praised. “Gorgeous and mine.”

Emily let out a sultry, low moan at that. “ _Oui, milady._ ”

Amélie’s mouth went absurdly dry. So she was right, that really was a kink of her muse, huh…? Very interesting. “And you’ll do whatever I want?”

“Always.”

“ _Magnifíque._ ” she chuckled and went to her purse. An Idea had just crossed her mind. "Do you have a safeword, _chérie?"_

Emily watched curious as she searched for something. "Safew-- oh, okay. I remember." If they were to play master and servant, there had to be some precautions on going too far, right? "Hyacinth."

"Oui. It's a good word."

Amélie came back with her phone ready to take pictures, making Emily hold her breath. There was still a small rational part of her mind barring her from being a complete slut for this sort of exposition.

“I think Lena will very much enjoy the view, won’t she?” Amélie smiled as the sound of pictures being taken filled the room.

_By the Nine, yes...!_

“Beautiful… Oh, just imagine her face.” Amélie chuckled. “Especially for the next one. Clothes off!”

There was no mental barrier that could resist that order. “Of course.” Making sure Amélie was watching - and she was, avidly - she made a show of stripping, running fingers through her belly and breasts, moving in determined angles, being deliberately slow at certain interest points. It was a different kind of dance, after all, and Emily reveled in that. So she took off the bra, threw it to a side, and played a bit with her hard nipples.

She bit her lips and smiled, impish. The heat, _oh the heat._

Emily thought Amélie was just taking pictures of that, but it was better: She was recording a film, it became clear when she approached with the phone unmoving.

“Am I doing a show for you or for her?” Emily teased.

Amélie’s eyes were locked on her and her movements, nostrils flaring with quick breathing. When Emily said that, though, she couldn’t help but look offended. “Touch yourself, Emily.”

She raised an eyebrow and happily obliged, spreading her legs to the camera, exposing quite proudly just how wet she was already, running fingers through her slick folds.

Amélie watched her for a moment, and asked: “Who are you touching yourself for?”

“For the both of you right now.” She laughed, and moaned a bit as her fingers worked. “Hi, Lena.”

Oh, she was teasing? Fine.

“Well then, _chérie,_ who is going to fuck you until you forget your name?” Amélie’s tone was velvety and dangerous, a queen about to send someone to a gruesome death. It did unspeakable things to Emily’s mind, to the point where she rolled her hips further and closed her eyes, a silent plea for her lover, as she finally inserted two digits into herself.

“You, Amé” She whispered.

“Who is your mistress?” Amélie continued.

“You, Amé.”

“So, who are you touching yourself for again…?” She opened a predatory smile.

Emily moaned and put an arm over her eyes, letting out some breath.

“ _Hell_ , for you, my mistress!” And she started going rougher on herself, the moans growing louder.

“Oh, such a good girl.” Amélie ran a hand over her inner thighs, then turned the phone to record herself. “So, I hope you’re having a good day, Lena.” She blowed her a kiss and ended the recording, chuckling in a truly evil way as she sent the video over.

As the confirmation that she received it popped up, Amélie almost threw the thing aside and rested her hands on Emily’s knees, watching her hand moving and the obscene expression on her face, parted lips spilling irrational sounds of pleasure.

“Stop.” She commanded and Emily immediately complied, making a wave of hot, electric arousal pool down in her center. Good, good girl.“Someone made a mess of herself, huh?”

“Oh? I’m sorry, Mistress…”

“It’s not a problem _,_ but we’ll have to have you cleaned before you drip even more all over the silky sheets.”

Close as she was, it was one second before Amélie was licking her, starting by the inner thighs and closing in painfully slowly. When she reached Emily’s center, though, she started with broad, quick swipes that made the ginger arch her back, and soon switched to a more exploratory - and rougher - approached with her tongue, teasing at her entrance.

“S-sorry for the… _Oh god_ \-- trouble, mistress!” Emily’s voice came shaky, and Amélie loved every bit of it.

She stared at her servant with dangerously smooth eyes, and went back to her task - except this time she sucked at her clit. Emily gasped and moaned like she was having a spasm, and Amélie had to hold her legs over her shoulders to be able to keep a steady rhythm.

Lena had teased Emily about her being loud and restless, and now Amélie could only agree with that. And it was lovely… Especially because with just one command…

Oh. Oh la la, the _idea_ …!

Amélie distanced herself when Emily started buckling her hips to her rhythm, and the muse let out a frustrated growl.

“M-mistress, please…!” She cried out.

Amélie let out a low, devious laugh. “Of course, _chérie._ ” and she passed her tongue all the way up her folds, making her shudder. “But it just won’t do to have you alerting the whole block to what’s happening here, mm? I want you to remain quiet until I tell otherwise. Understood?”

Emily nodded. So beautiful, her servant. So loyal.

She started licking at her again, and the only sounds that came from her were sharp breaths and the movement of the silky sheets as she arched and rolled her hips for Amélie. It was not long before stiffness built and she grasped harder against the mattress, and Amélie knew she was getting closer to a release. Perfectly quiet, despite how ecstatic she must’ve been feeling.

“You can talk now” Amélie quickly whispered. “I’m going into you.”

“Please, please, _yes!”_

By the high pitch of her voice she was far gone, and as Amélie inserted a finger, then another, she grew taut as a bowstring taking in the sensations they brought. Her lustful expression, with eyes shut and lips parted, was a thing of beauty; Amélie let her grow used to the fullness for a moment, in part to be able to drink from that rich view, and then she started pumping her in.

At first it was too much, just like with Lena, but it quickly became a jolt of pleasure and ecstasy, friction, all rational thought replaced with a raging desire for _more of that_ , and she'd give anything for it.

She barely registered she was not only voicing these thoughts, but roaring them out loud as she rode Amélie’s fingers for that wonderful friction.

Her mistress was perfectly happy to fulfil her requests: _harder, better, faster, stronger_ , as the song says, and Emily reached and pulled her up in a brisk embrace as the release came.

Scream then turned to moan, that turned to hum, that turned to a deep, satisfied sigh, until the only sound in the room was of heavy breathing, everything in complete peace.

“ _Merci_ , Amé…” Emily’s  voice was throaty and exhausted, but undeniably bubbly. She nudged Amélie’s neck with her nose and loosened the grip on her back, wonderfully sore.

“ _De rien._ Now rest... You’ve been such a good girl.” Amélie smiled, massaging the back of her neck with the clean hand.

She leaned into the caress and let go, slipping softly to the mattress. Amélie pulled the blankets and covered her carefully, making sure she was comfortable with her pillows and didn’t want anything else.

“I’m going to clean this” She raised her completely soaked hand with a playful smile. “and I’ll be right back.”

Emily nodded, and was rewarded with a kiss to the forehead.

“Lay down with me?” Emily managed to say before she disappeared into the bathroom.

“I’d be mad if I didn’t.” She winked.

The muse smiled. She felt completely wrecked and completely comfortable - a wild thing, tamed. Cared for.

If those were the leashes she chose, boy, weren’t they nice.

 

\--

 

“You look lovely sleepy like this, _chérie_.” Amélie took some hair out of Emily’s face, smiling.

“I’m not sleepy.” She pouted like a child, trying to glare at Amélie but losing the fight to keep her eyes open.

“Of course not, that sleepy voice is totally not a sign, mm?”

“Not my fault how comfortable your chest is.”

“Rest, chérie.” Amélie kissed the top of her head and Emily sighed happily, making herself more comfortable by stretching and rubbing just like a cat would. The actual cat, by the way, was curled up behind Amélie’s butt, happy to have her moms around to snuggle with.

“No… It’s nice like this, I want to keep cuddling!”

“Well, I’m not opposed to it at all…”

They stood in silence for some time, enjoying each other and the end of the afternoon. Now that was good life.

“Hey Amé…” Emily called, quietly.

“Mm? You’re still awake…”

“You said you didn’t envision me playing a piano, well... “ She straightened a bit,   pushing herself up and a bit away so she could look Amélie in the eye. “There was this guy, once. His name was Markus Wolf, and he was a piano teacher in the late nineteenth center. I knew him because he played in a show house to make ends meet, and I went there to see a dancer everyone was talking about, said to be equal parts amazing and scandalizing, just my kind of people.”

“Oh? And was she good?” Amélie asked, curious about where Emily was leading her with the story.”

“She was every bit what they said. I’d have thrown my underwear for her if I had a physical form at the time.” Emily made a pause for effect, giving her a playful look, and Amélie snorted. “So, of course, I came back the next performance, and the next, and you get the idea. I was fascinated and started acting as her muse, because why not? She looked like such an interesting person.”

“Did you have an affair, in the end?”

This time, it was Emily who snorted. “No darling, I didn’t have anywhere to put my boner in, even less fingers!”

“Well, who knows.” She shrugged.

“Nah. Besides, I started learning some things. Just like me, all the men - and some women too, though they couldn’t act on it, the poor things - wanted her, so they buried her in gifts, dinners and flowers, all that stuff, and she had a serious case of egomania because of that. She could be a genius when it came to dancing, but I used to run away very fast when she was out of the stage. Really, I got no patience for this ‘I’m so superior’ bulshit.”

“I may have noticed it. It’s hot, if a bit reckless.”  Amélie smirked.

“You just summed me up.” Emily winked. “Anyway, one day when I was running away from a diva attack of hers I found Markus still on the stage where they were rehearsing, alone. He was playing such a beautiful song I just stopped and watched. From that day on I started paying more attention to him, and found out he - guess what - was also madly in love with the diva, but she barely acknowledged his presence as the pianist. Markus was kind and passionate, and when I discovered he was also a piano teacher, I started going to a few of his classes out of curiosity, just to watch.” Her eyes got distant for a moment, and a fond smile came to her lips. “He made me like the piano. More than that, he made me like him, too. A lot. Beside you, he was the only one.”

There was definitely fondness in her words, but also a hint of sadness. Amélie thought she knew what came next in the tale, so she risked telling it: “...But you couldn’t be together because you virtually didn’t exist for him.”

Emily sighed. “Being invisible and intangible _sucks_ . He was there, getting completely depressed for a stupid diva that I helped for some time and I couldn’t do anything about it. _Urgh._ ”

Amélie wanted to say something comforting, but she wasn't sure if she could in that situation. It must've been very sad for Emily to see such things taking place… She felt her heart heavy just by thinking of it. “...What happened then?”

“I tried everything I could, as a spirit of inspiration. I tried to give him ideas to go out and see other people, other dancers, I arranged for other musicians to seek him, for nice people to get interested in his classes, I even got him to apply to the national orchestra!” She smiled faintly, but it was clearly sad; she noticed the way Amélie was looking and averted her gaze, though. “But it ended up not mattering. He was one of those hopeless romantics, I suppose, and he was fixated. He killed himself. ‘Life wasn't worth living if not with her’, the suicide note said. He'd never know that I loved him. He'd never know how his students missed him, especially a little girl named Elise _.”_

There was a lump in Amélie's throat, and it was difficult to breath with her chest so tight. _Life wasn't worth living if not with her…_ That statement hit her like a truck right in the guts. It was so brutal, so wrong, and so much like the things she'd say after the accident!

“ _Chérie_ , I'm--”

Emily placed a finger over her lips in order to quiet her. She took a deep breath before she kept talking, hesitant.“When Gérard died and you fell in a deep depression, Amé, it was like I was seeing it all over again, you know? I could see it unfurling like a film in my head, and there I was again, doing everything I could as a muse, but it wasn't enough. I knew it wouldn't be... Then I went to the Higher Muse and pledged my case. I… I couldn't let that happen to you. I had to _try._ ”

There was a vulnerability there in her eyes, an angst that came from centuries watching humanity helplessly from the borders. Thinkers and historians said history repeated itself, so how had it been for Emily to see a person she loved going down the same spiral that got her first love killed?

Amélie brushed her muse’s cheek softly, then held her hand in place.”You did it, Emily. I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to Markus. He seemed to be a lovely person.”

“It couldn’t be helped… But it’s because of him I’m here now, in a way, so I think it’s all right.”

That said, she crawled back to Amélie’s chest and made herself comfortable there, holding her tight.

“And that’s why I play the piano. It turned into an emotional trainwreck, but… Yeah.”

“No _chérie,_ don’t beat yourself over it. I’m very glad you told me.” She placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She looked up with a soft, quite lovestruck smile, and sleepy eyes. It was one of those sights that easily melts a heart. “So, what are we going to do for your birthday? It’s in one week, don’t think that I forgot it.”

Amélie’s eyes widened at the sudden change in subject, especially to that one in particular; the  the impish look Emily was giving her helped with the surprise, too. It surely meant trouble. “I didn’t even know you knew when my birthday was, _chérie._ ”

She laughed. “Do you take me for an amateur, darling? I’ve known you for five years, of course I know when your birthday is.”

“ _Five years?!”_

“Uh yeah? I thought I’d told you…” Emily frowned, blushing a bit. “I’ve been around you that long.”

“You stalker!” Amélie scoffed, faking offense.

Emily wiggled her eyebrows. “Comes with the job, darling. Now, what are we going to do?”

“Really, five years? And you didn’t get bored?”

“You were not the only one I visited, so no. Besides, how could I ever get tired? You and Gérard were just so much fun to watch… But don’t change the subject--”

“We were, weren’t we?” Amélie opened a wide smile. “Were you there when he took me to Versailles…?”

“Amé!”

“Were you?”

Emily shook her head, chuckling. “Yes, yes I was…”

 

\--

 

Winston brought a big metallic crate to Lena’s flat and didn’t let her see what was inside. His argument was that maybe it would be better to wait for the next day for them to have the exam done, as her day had been quite intense. Lena had reluctantly conceded that he had a point; she didn’t want to end up in the hospital again, it would beat the record she had when she was with _Los Muertos_ , getting completely wasted in a two-day gap. It annoyed her a bit, though. Had she known before, she could’ve taken that cab she wanted and gone to Angela’s house, but now she was tired and the moment had passed.

Next morning, though, she woke up to the metallic sound of things being assembled in the living room. She jumped from bed and ran out like a kid on Christmas morning, and she found Winston crouching in the middle of the room, all furniture pushed as far as possible, assembling a kind of ring in the middle where the rug usually was.

No, not just a ring, Winston was building a bloody Stargate on Lena’s room.

...Okay, not _really_ a Stargate, but boy, it looked like one.

“What’s that, luv?” Lena took a peek over his shoulder. “Are you calling the Doctor?”

“No, I’m-- oh, you mean _Doctor Who_.” He frowned, but smiled afterwards. “No, I’m not bringing the Tardis here, even though it’s time related.”

“But Winston, what if we got Thirteen to come?! She’s such a nice babe…” She wriggled her eyebrows, chuckling at the way he facepalmed.

“Go have some breakfast, Lena. Ana is cooking something for you.” He was trying to keep himself serious, but laughter slipped from the corner of the words.

Lena wanted to argue she liked to see him building things, but her stomach betrayed her. Besides, not having to cook was a nice change, even though she didn’t really know why Ana was there…

Well, technicalities.

When they were both back after a round of tea and egyptian bread and eggs, the weird contraption was almost finished and Ana went to sit on the couch in the corner. ‘ _To make sure no one dies’,_ she said.

“So, I’m gonna need you to stand in the center of the ring.” Winston helped Lena inside the Stargate thing, then went back to fiddling with some loose parts of it.

“What will it do?”

“It’ll generate a force field of TR-particles that interfere with time.” He pulled it up, and the ring divided itself in three, supported by two metal bars that railed them up and down. He took the contraption up until one ring was above Lena’s head and the other roughly at her middle, then locked them in place. “When it's fully charged it’ll make some measurements and send some responses back to my laptop. It’s perfectly safe and tested, the particles only mess with the flow of time over you. It may feel a bit funny on the skin, though.”

“Right. Anything any of you want me to tell Earhart when I arrive at 1928?” Lena tilted her head slightly and smiled.

Ana shook her head. “Try not to bang her and change history, yes?”

“Me?! Bang Earhart?!” Lena scoffed, faking offense that was betrayed by the sly look on her face. “My, what a dream!”

Winston rolled his eyes. “I’m going to turn on the machine, stay still.”

He pressed a button on the laptop and the machine came to life, humming softly. A force field of sorts formed between the three rings, enveloping Lena in a dome of white light, and from there the air started sparking and spiraling with particles. It was warm and comfortable, but as the humming  increased, Lena started feeling weirdly lightheaded and distant from herself, to the point her vision was blurred and she couldn’t think straight. When she thought she couldn’t handle it anymore and was about to faint, though, the field dissipated and the probing came to an end.

Next thing she noticed, she was sitting on the couch with Emily by her side, talking to her. She blinked to clear her vision and looked to the sides, still very groggy. How did she get there? It was like she skipped the minutes where she should’ve walked there or something… And when did Emily arrive?

Seeing a spark of recognition in her eyes, Emily repeated her words for what felt like the hundredth time those last minutes: “Can you hear me now, darling?”

“Em…? What…?”

“Sssh, it’s okay. You’re fine.” If Emily was saying it more to Lena or to herself, it was unknown. “You just froze there for a moment.”

Ana walked in from the kitchen, bringing a glass of water. “Here, give her some of that. You frightened us, child!”

“I don’t… I was standing there.” She frowned, confused.

“Yeah, and you were catatonic for three minutes, then five more on the couch.” Ana crossed her arms and gave her a searching look.

“I can’t remember.”

“You don’t have to remember anything right now.” Emily squeezed her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was at some wild spinning ride at a fair.” She curled up and Emily gladly took her in her arms, messing with her soft hair.

“That was a scare.” She sighed, then turned to Ana and Winston. “Don’t you two go flaring Lena again, you heard me?!”

“Flaring?” Ana frowned.

“Yeah, her energy flared like a lighthouse, I sensed it from the other side of the city! And when I got here…” She clenched her teeth, probably not to call anyone names.

“So that’s what it was?” Ana frowned, visibly surprised. “I thought it had to do with the exam!”

They turned to the machine at the mention. Winston was checking things so furiously in the laptop attached to it that he didn’t even acknowledge them. That wasn’t like him - he’d be the first to stay by Lena’s side when things went wrong, so what could be more important than that?

“What’s the matter, big guy?” Lena asked quietly. He didn't listen.

“Winston” Emily tried again. “What the fuck is going on?!”

He raised his head, visibly startled, then regained some composure. “The readings are all off, there _must_ be something wrong!” He raised his voice slightly, looking very lost.

“Wrong how?” Ana squinted.

“They sinalize the TR-particles interfered not only with time, as expected, but also with _Lena._  That’s impossible - they just _don’t_ interfere with people, that’s not how it works!”

“But they interfere with time.” Ana stated, looking at Lena there, curled up with Emily.

“Yes, that’s the whole point.” Winston nodded, also looking at the couple.

“What if…” She started.

“Yes…?”

“There’s something inside her that wasn’t supposed to be there? Something time-related?”

Lena whipped her head to face Ana and reply, but it was too quick and she whimpered from the pain. Emily brought her back to her chest and replied for her: “We’d have noticed the foreign energy.”

“And the x-rays would’ve showed if it was an artifact.” Winston complemented.

“But what if… I’m the foreign thing?” Lena whispered to Emily. “What if there’s something wrong with me and I’m like… I don’t know…”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Emily replied, her voice serious but soft.

Ana put a hand on her chin, considering, and Emily gave her a look. It was not the time to feed Lena’s insecurities, she should know better.

“Actually…” She started. “I’ve never seen people ‘flaring’, as you put it, Emily.”

“Well they-- It’s surely not common, but people with those shiny, great auras, they-- Wait. _Fuck!”_

Everybody stared, waiting for an explanation..

“The drawings depicting future scenes. Time-related.” She said, finally. “That curse of decay on the blighted construction site affecting Lena too quickly, that could be time-related too. Darling, I think you got time-altering powers.”

“Really?!” Lena’s eyes widened

“But that can’t be.” Winston interfered. “Time is not something one can alter like that. I mean, you’ve seen the file and how that place with the time machine ended up. It’s less a power and more a primordial force of reality people are stupid enough to mess with, then end up dead.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Lena sighed.

“But Lena almost died too, hasn’t she?” Emily kept going. “And your machine did things to her when it shouldn’t.”

“But wouldn’t we see it when she used her ‘powers’, Emily? Wouldn’t Winston detect it?” This time it was Ana asking.

“...Yes. Those are good points.”

“Winston did see the readings are off, now that he got the right machine.” Lena added, quietly.

“That’s true.” He nodded. “Especially when your energy spiked--”

“ _Fuck, that’s it!”_ Emily gasped “We did see - we could see it all this time!”

“What?”

“Your aura. Your fucking aura being all echo-y and flaring in reaction to things, and how it’s all shiny and packed with energy all the time - it’s not just _a_ power, _you_ may be the power!”

“...I’m not sure I follow, luv.”

“We don’t see you ‘using’ your powers because it’s something inherently yours, you’re not twisting or creating or bending stuff into existence out of magic. It’s just something you do, like I feed from creative energy or cats purr, or the sun shines!” She gesticulated a lot and laughed at the end, at the same time baffled and proud of her line of thought.

“But shouldn’t I know what I’m doing, then?” Lena frowned.

“Not if you’re the only one doing it. How _would_ you know? Maybe you’ve been doing awesome things all this time and you never knew.”

“Don’t know about awesome, but it has certainly brought a lot of trouble.” Lena sighed. “How am I supposed to learn what to do with it?”

They all looked at each other, unsure what to answer.

 _Great, no one knows._ Lena let her shoulders drop. _I’m fucked._

“I think I’d like to go to my room now.” She tried to get up, clumsily, and Emily ended up helping her. As soon as she got there, though, she dismissed even the muse. She wanted to be alone. It was too much for her head to absorb, and she needed the quiet.

She went to her bed crying silently. Why couldn’t anything in her life be easy, for once?

\--

“I’m going back to the lab to consult with my colleagues in the USA.” Winston said absentmindedly as he disassembled the machine in the living room. “Maybe they’ve seen something like this before.”

Emily was leaning on the wall to Lena’s room, her eyes closed. She had just passed a note below the door saying she’d be there and Lena could call if she wanted, and now she went into deep thought. The despair and anxiety coming from her girlfriend crashed into her like waves in a storm, and she needed to find something to help her through this initial scare. Anything. But her mind was blank.

“Now I know what she wants.” Ana told herself more than the others as she paced through the room. “I’m going after her. She must know more than we do.”

“Who?” Winston side eyed her, slightly curious.

She didn’t answer him - there was no time to lose with explanations. She merely went for the door, thinking of the logistics, and how she’d have to call Fareeha and ask for the combination to the safe where she kept her rifle locked.

“Emily.” Winston called. She opened her eyes slowly, acknowledging and waiting for him to continue. “If what you said is indeed the true, then Lena not knowing how to control her time manipulation may be a bigger problem than brain damage or some spirit coming after her.”

“I know.” Her eyes were pale and deep. “But she’s such a smart woman, she’ll learn whatever she needs. We’ll be here to help her.”

Winston nodded. “It’s an awesome discovery, isn’t it, though? Our little Lena is a chronal oddity like never seen before.

Emily chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t use those words, especially around her.”

“Oh, you’re right, that’s too freaky. What about a chronal miracle?”

“Too messiah-like, but it might do it.”

They stood there looking for the right words to use, laughing a bit, making silly jokes... They needed the distraction. It was not very light on their sanities to know a person so important in both their lives bended and turned one of the most dangerous and unstables forces known in the world, couldn’t stop it and didn’t have a clue of what she was doing. How could they even begin to help her with that? After all, there was a reason the myth had Khronos eating his offspring. They had to find a way he wouldn’t do it to her, too...

  
\--  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks for Nox, guest beta-ing this chapter <3
> 
> I was a bit shy to include the song Emily danced this chapter. It's one I really like. If anyone's interested, it's [To Love You, by The Family Crest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtIQBOfR1VE). This band is a huge inspiration to writing Emily in this fic.


	28. Chapter 28

_The Adventurer was down. Struck with the power of the most unpredictable of gods, left on the scorched dirt, the strength faded from her limbs and bones. Her mind was shattered from being launched at the infinity within the gods grasp; everything and nothing converging inside. The Adventurer thought the inescapable faith awaited her: death loomed closer, brandishing its scythe, a wicked grin on its fleshless face._

_She was not alone, though._

_The Trickster sat by her side, held her hand and waited. The goddess,_ their _goddess, was already coming - then they’d be two there for her, and  they weren’t even counting all the friends she made along the roads of her adventures. She was loved; no matter what it took, if they had to find the rarest flower in the highest mountain to make the most complex potion, they’d help her overcome whatever it was the dire blow had brought her._

_Who knew, maybe it could even prove to be less of a curse and more of a gift at the end. It would certainly be a new adventure, and that was what she did best - she only needed to give it a chance._

 

Emily finished writing, folded the paper and passed it under the door. She thought a lot before writing it: first of all, it was Lena’s little world and she could be offended; it could sound as something she could say because she wasn’t living through something similar; it could just shut Lena down even further. There wasn’t a safe way to know what would happen, but Emily was willing to try and tell her what she felt on the matter.

The waves of distress and sadness coming from Lena in the room calmed down and stabilized, but not in a good way: there was a lack of feelings there now, like she was disassociating. Emily really wanted to just phase in the room and take her in her arms, but she had to respect her desire to be alone.

It was almost high noon - and those two words alone reminded her of McCree - and it was a good idea to grab some food for Lena on his pub. She’d get hungry, eventually. Emily was a bit conflicted on leaving, though, because she said she wouldn’t, and she didn’t like to leave hurting people on their own, especially Lena. Last time they did that, the race happened along with some brain damage, a blue-glowing cloud of de--

 _Oh. Oh fuck._ the blue glowing cloud of death that made Emily _run backwards_ to where she was before when she tried to enter it - iIt was the exact same thing Lena did the day before. Time-related. It might as well have been her doing there at the construction site, and it was _very_ powerful.

A knock on the door took her mind off the striking realization and back to the moment, even though she wanted to theorize the hell out of it.. “Coming, Amé!”

Amélie was waiting for her with a confused face when she opened the door, and Baguette meowed at her excitedly. “How did you know it was me?”

“Oh darling, I’d know your energy from a mile away, as well as that particular mix of restraint and anxiety.” She gave her a particularly amused look. “Come in, there's a lot for you to catch up with.”

 

\--  


“Well, that’s really something.” Amélie stared at the door to Lena's room, absentminded.

“That's to put it lightly.” Emily also looked at the door, scratching behind Baguette’s ears. “And the worst thing is that Lena probably thinks something terrible is going to happen to her because that's what messing with time does. She's probably seeing those photos encoded in the oficial report Sombra gave her and having ideas that might not be true. We don’t know how it works for her yet  - we don’t know _anything_. It’s infuriating.”

“About this Sombra… Have you met her? How could she have known the link between Lena and time?”

“No I didn’t, but Ana doesn’t like her at all. She’s out there looking for her at the moment, and I fear we’ll only have these answers if she succeeds in getting her.”

“Mm.” Amélie got up and went to the door, placing a hand on it. “Have you tried talking to Lena since she went into her room?”

“Not really, no. I wrote some things and passed them under the door, but otherwise she asked to be alone.”

She nodded, took a breath and knocked. “Lena? It’s Amélie. Are you okay?”

It took a couple of seconds, but the answer came in a tired tone. “No.”

“Can we go in there with you or do you still want to be alone?”

That took Lena a little more time to reply to. “Door’s open.”

Emily got up with Baguette in her arms, and exchanged a concerned look with Amélie before they walked in. Lena rested on her bed looking at the ceiling, grasping tight a piece of paper over her chest. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks shone with the trace of tears. She didn’t look in their direction as they approached.

“Hello, _chérie._ ” Amélie stopped by her bed.

“Emily called you.” It was less an accusation than an acknowledgement; it still sounded lifeless, though.

“Actually, I was on my way as soon as she noticed something was wrong and teleported here, but traffic in this city is outrageous.” She rolled her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Lena didn’t answer. Emily took the opportunity and sat on the far edge of the bed, putting Baguette on her legs because she knew she was ticklish. Granted, as the kitten started walking on her with her peculiar bipedal hops, Lena didn’t have a choice but to giggle and wriggle, taking and putting Baguette on her chest before greeting her with a proper scratch under the chin. “Damn, you’re the cutest cat ever, did you know that?.”

Baguette rubbed her cheek on her hands and purred, getting comfortable on her chest. Lena opened a faint, quite pained smile as she petted her. Kitties were irresistible like that.

Emily noticed Lena was still holding that paper, and recognized it as the message she passed under the door earlier. “I hope I didn’t slaughter your characters’ personalities, darling.”

“They were fine.” They locked eyes for a moment, but Lena soon looked away again. “The Trickster would’ve done some trickery, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Emily raised her eyebrow, interested. “Like what?”

“Adorned the Adventurer with flowers like a hippie, so at least she’d be pleasant to look at while she died.”Lena’s voice was pretty much dead, but there was a hint of humor in it. A start.

“I think she’d be more concerned with the actual dying, you know.” Emily chuckled. “The Adventurer has to be alive and well for her to trick effectively. Besides she’s cute, and as much as the Trickster may hate to admit, she loves having her around.”

Amélie turned from one to the other with a puzzled look, not really understanding what was going on but not asking either. They could fill her in later if they wanted. Besides that, she felt like she should do something, maybe talk to Lena. Even though she couldn’t possibly know how it was like for her, at least she could offer some personal experience advice, right?

“You know, right after the doctor told me the surgery on my foot was a success but it wouldn’t ever be the same, I thought I was going to die because of it.” She started, quietly. “The most terrible scenarios crossed my mind, like I was going to be discarded and forgotten by everyone, family included, and all my worth depended on how skilled I was at being a ballet dancer. I felt like my throat would close and I’d suffocate, or have a fatal stroke. None of those things were true.”

Lena stared at Amélie, mouth slightly ajar. Tears started pooling in her eyes again, and she dried them with the back of her hand quite frantically, then hid her eyes with a forearm. It was like she was struggling to let something out of her chest.

“What I’m trying to say, _chérie,_ is that it’s okay to be feeling a wreck. We’re here for you, and we’re going to figure it out.” Amélie laid a hand on her hair, lightly, waiting for a reaction. When none came, she started running her fingers through it, massaging her scalp. Emily always purred that Lena’s hair was very soft, and Amélie couldn’t disagree with that at all.

Baguette crawled forward and started licking Lena’s chin. She suppressed the sob it brought.  
  
“I don’t want to die.”

 

_And that was when the Adventurer broke down in tears, her body shaking and her heart shrouded in darkness. The Trickster and the Goddess enveloped her in their arms and lulled her with sweet words of peace and protection, attempting to calm her spirit. They ended up intertwined among blankets and pillows the Goddess materialized, and from that to sleep was a quick journey for the exhausted woman._

_Knowing that she wouldn’t hear them, the Trickster then examined the Goddess, her mistress and first lover, and offered her an affectionate smile. “You like her”, she told the Goddess “in the same ways I do.”._

_The Goddess’ response was to bring the Adventurer closer in her embrace and farther away from the Trickster, who laughed in delight. It seemed even in dark times there was a little something to make things brighter, after all._

 

\--

 

Winston talked to his american colleagues. They all had stories of the weirdest time distortions, some with victims, but none could offer insight on how to keep it under control besides what was written in the magic dispeller’s guidebook Fareeha brought from the precinct the day, after they discovered about Lena. It’s worth noting that the guidebook wasn’t all that helpful, too - it recommended encasing the temporal anomaly in a suppressant force field of third level, isolating the area and filling its borders with repellant and manipulative spells in order for people to stay out of it. The only part of it mentioning time distortions over people was a sentence long, and stated that in case they found people affected by temporal anomalies alive, word was to be sent to the local authorities to call in the most specialized dispellers in the area.

If anything else, at least the book told them there were more specialized people somewhere and they probably had relevant information to give. Winston focused on acquiring addresses, emails and telephone numbers, but he wasn't being very successful - the official methods required him to tell the authorities why he was after those powerful dispellers, and he wasn't really willing to gamble and tell them his best friend had something so unique and potentially dangerous going on with her. Who knew what they'd try to do? The last thing they needed was the government trying to make a lab rat out of Lena.

Amélie and Emily were having more success than him on their task to take Lena's mind out of the heavy things, and they had Hana's and Brigitte's help with it: Hana's channel was now considerably famous and she was receiving various job offers, specially for ads and guest starring. She usually took Brigitte with her when she wasn't in college, and it took one visit from Emily for her to extend the offer to Lena as well. It was great to have one more person to help with backstage matters, and if Lena needed to distract herself all the better, it was just the perfect opportunity.

Besides that, Emily spent some time each day going to the House of Clio and searching their massive library for books with any level of connection with temporal matters. She soon learnt that even though the Clio had a wildly efficient searching system, it was still hard to find anything useful; there was just too much speculation and superstition on the matter.

She ended up slamming a fist hard on a wooden column(or what could be perceived as one, in the astral plane) to avoid throwing the book in her hands against the nearest shelf In a particularly frustrated attempt to find anything of use. Why was it so difficult to find serious studies on the subject?!

“Oh for fuck's sake” Emily grunted to herself. “there must've been someone in the world that had something similar at some point! Lena can't be the first one!”

“Uh, excuse me.” She turned; a small, scraggy man with a young complexion and a shy curiosity in his eyes stared at her. “I can't help but notice you need some help here.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, studying him. He certainly had the energy signature of a muse, but he was the first one she found walking around the aisles on that couple of days she'd been visiting the library. It was just too big and efficient; most people got what they wanted and went to one of the small lounges to do their work. It was unexpected.

“Don't take me wrong, but you could help me with…?”

He put a hand over his forehead and cackled, remembering something. “Oh, of course-- I'm a Clio. I come here a lot, but I've never seen you, so you must be new or a different type of muse. Anyway, you need help finding a book, right? What are you looking for?”

Emily considered her facts. The man did read as a muse and his feelings were a mix of curiosity, restraint and caution, nothing you wouldn't expect from someone really attempting to help. Still, it was good to be careful. “Time mages. People actively bending the flow of time and getting out safely, this sort of thing.”

The Clio frowned. “What an exquisite subject. Time mages? Messing with time is a recipe for disaster.”

“Yeah, I know.” Emily made an effort not to roll her eyes. “That’s why I’m having trouble finding material on it, but c’mon, no one ever theorized how it’d be like?”

“That's a good point.” He stroked his chin absentmindedly. “I'll take a look for you.”

She was about to reply that he could simply direct her to the right aisle when he disappeared in a cloud of dust that went into the closest shelf. It was something all of the Clio did: if anything had historical relevance they were able to literally vanish into it. It was particularly useful to skim through written documents at lightspeed and acquire the knowledge on them, but it also worked on all sorts of other stuff as well - once a Clio got inexplicably stuck into a thirteenth century statue and needed help to get out, causing all sorts of tales about haunted statues amongst the mortals in that region. Being stuck there for that long made the muse grasp at the smallest facts of the commissioning and creation of the statue, at least, so the situation wasn't a total disaster.

That said, Emily always soured when she saw that Clio trick being performed - of course _they_ could learn things instantly, while the Terpsichores had to train their asses off if they wanted to be good at their trade. She really liked the training aspect of her job, but knowing others could have things easier made it very unfair in her eyes.

The library at the House of the Clio was said to extend through infinity with all of the recorded history and its artifacts. It read the people inside in order to bring what they were looking for closer or farther away, depending on its judgement, and despite that, Clio navigated it easily in their dust form, finding things in a matter of seconds if they wanted. It really said something about the rarity of time manipulation works when it took two whole minutes for the Clio helping Emily to return with three books and a folder in his arms.

“Now that was a ride.” He had a proud smile in his face as he nodded towards the main corridor. “We’d better find a table for you, no?”  


\--

 

“So, why are you researching time mages again?” The Clio asked.

“Personal curiosity.” Emily turned the page, side-eying him.

“Really? That’s a very complex curiosity of yours.” He cackled, but when he saw she didn’t think it was funny, he cleared his throat and stopped. “Would you tell me a little more about it?”

This time Emily faced him, and she was a bit surprised, yes, but also on guard. What was he going on about? She didn't like an inquiry at all. “You’re the one who can learn from the books in the blink of an eye.”

“S-sure, yes” He fidgeted a bit with the hem of his shirt, embarrassed by her tone. “but you know more than me about the subject, I mean - you know what to look for, right? Otherwise you’d have the fiction books here as well, or the prophecy ones.”

She wasn’t totally convinced of his intentions, but she started reading an excerpt from one of the books out loud. It was out of context enough to be harmless anyway. “ _(...) I spotted the thing floating above the bog, ghostly, far too big to be a will-o'-the-wisp. It looked like a giant arrow tip spinning out of control and then repeating its own movement backwards, looping endlessly and fading in and out of view. As I got closer, I could hear a weird, faint sound, like thunder heard from underwater. I had my protective spells up and expected them to trigger at any moment, but nothing happened as I got inches of the thing and raised my cane to touch it. It went right through, but I heard a metallic clang. It was made of hollow metal, a very twisted bird with a glass dome on its back, and just for a moment, as the moon shone through the clouds, it looked like there was a person inside._

_Before I could take a proper look, though, it all vanished with a sound like electricity ripping the world apart.”_

Emily raised her eyes from the book and looked at the Clio: his eyebrows were so high in his forehead they probably could detach themselves and raise into infinity if he kept that expression.

“That is really… Ominous.” He said, finally.

“You don’t say.” She smirked. ”It's from the XIV century.”

“Can I stay and hear some more?” He took a step forward. “Your voice is really pretty and the subject is cool…”

Despite the fact that the Clio's feelings were all over the place and coated in a fair amount of anxiety, Emily wouldn’t have needed to capt them to finally realize what the hell he wanted. She didn’t know if she facepalmed internally or felt sorry for him. “Thank you, but--”

“Emily! There you are!”

Erato was going in their direction, shrinking a bit when other people in the lounge gave him annoyed stares because he just shouted in a library. He wore the face of an asian man with short black hair at the time, but his eyes remained brown with a vivid streak of green when he was excited, apparently.

“Emily…?” The Clio told himself, confused, then looked from the woman to the newcomer. “Wait. You're that rebel Terpsichore!”

“'Rebel’?” She frowned. “That's so unruly teenager.”

Erato reached them and, eager as he was, just started sharing the news with no regards to the previous conversation. A broken dam of words, if you will. “I've been asking as I went around telling the usual story, you know, really cool muse and her girlfriends, and I may have come across something nice! The Uranias have some--”

“W-wait a moment!” The Clio raised his voice and his hands, making both women stare at him. “So you have _two_ mortal lovers?!”

 _Oh for fucks sake…_ Emily groaned in her mind. “Yes. And?”

His jaw dropped. “That’s so wrong! They’re humans, how can you even-- “

“Go fuck yourself, mister.” She gave him her back and signaled for the Erato to follow her. She was just not in the mood to argue about that.

The guy was taken aback for a moment, surprised by the sudden outburst, but unfortunately that wasn’t enough to detain him from following them towards the exit. “Wait, don’t take me wrong--”

“Already did!”  
  
“--but they’re far above us! We’re meant to serve them!”

“Oh I serve them alright, just not only with my work.” She opened a smug little smile.

He gasped. “So they _make_ you…?”

“Of course not, you idiot!” Emily turned, her eyes flashing red for a moment, and he almost collided with her. “Is the concept of love really this alien for you?!”  
  
“Em!” The Erato grabbed her by the shoulder, a silent attempt to make her friend not punch the guy. She could practically feel it coming.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The Clio was quick to say. “But how could they love you, you’re a spirit like all of us, a sentient concentration of energy, do they even realize you don’t have a form?!”

As foretold by the Erato, Emily punched him hard, making him take several steps back with the impact, lose balance and almost fall. She could’ve held her back, but truth be told, she didn’t want to - not when he was a jerk to her friend.

“ _Why the fuck did you do that?!_ ” He shrieked, taking his hands to his bleeding nose.

Emily got really close to his face, so he could see just how pissed off she was, and started talking with a low, dangerous voice. “One: they’d see this as a ginger woman punching your mousey face, asshole. Their brains adapt their sight, you should know that, it’s common knowledge. Two: we’re alive, we’re sentient, we just don’t generate massive amounts of energy from everything we do, and we don’t have a body, which takes me to three: I’m a badass and I got one!”

People gathered around them at this point, whispering, some condemning the scene, some genuinely curious about what was going on. Security came as well: two huge enchanted gargoyles who woke up and descended from their high columns overlooking the floor. They told Emily and Erato to leave and tried to grab Emily by the arms, but she dodged them with a dancer’s ease and walked to the exit herself, with her head up high.

Who the hell started telling muses they were inferior, and why did they believe them?!  


\--  


“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you painting like this, Lena. What’s the technique?.” Hana perched herself on the back of the couch to take a better look at what her friend was doing.

It was late afternoon and a warm golden light entered the living room through the window, providing light enough for Lena to keep painting without the need to turn on the lights. She searched her wardrobe with the subtlety of a hurricane the day before in order to find some unused canvases, brushes and a set of good paint tubes, and now stood on the living room covered in paint and with the brightest of smiles.

“Oils. I don’t do it often... This one’s special. “ Lena applied quick strokes of a palette knife to the canvas, stopped, mixed a lighter blue in the palette and resumed painting with the new color.

“Clearly, you’ve never given me something like that.” Hana chuckled.

“Oi, not fair!” She turned to face her, pouting.  “I drew you that giant poster of Samus Aran!”

“I know, I was kidding, silly! Now, is that for Emily or for Amélie?”

“For Amé.” Lena’s eyes brightened. “Her birthday is Friday and I wanted to give something nice, but what can you gift a rich woman? Well, something she can’t buy, right?”

She was in the process of adding the primary shades to the painting, but it was already visible it featured a woman in a cape and a cat, and it used a lot of blues and purples.

“What will it be?” Hana squirmed, to try to make out sketched details, but it was useless. “A portrait or something?”

“It’ll be awesome.”

Hana gave her an annoyed look.

“Be patient, luv, you’ll see in due time.” She chuckled and put down the palette and palette knife, stretching. “I’ll go get some water.”

She went to the kitchen gliding on her socks, thanking a god internally they were dark and wouldn’t show the stain they were probably getting from it. She crossed the threshold absentmindedly, thinking of maybe adding more light from a window in the painting, and then  made eye contact with the crappy wall clock on the kitchen wall. The hands in it seemed to shift forward at an alarming speed.

She gasped and blinked, and it all went away.

 _Bloody hell, did this really happen? Am I getting mad? Is this a sign something is going to happen to me, oh god, I don’t want to feel that shit again, I_ can’t _feel that shit again!_

Her chest felt too small for her racing heart, and air was suddenly very hard to find. She knew it was the start of a panic attack, and that she had to find a way to calm herself; it was very difficult to do anything at the moment, however. With her legs starting to shake and weaken, she crouched and sat on the floor, leaning on the cabinet and trying to breathe.

When she took too long to go back Hana went looking for her, complaining about some meaningless thing that she forgot as soon as she saw Lena in that state. She sat by her side and reassured her she wasn’t going to die nor was in danger, and waited until she was feeling a bit better to take her to the couch.

It was the second panic attack in three days… Hana hoped Lena would tell her what was going on, because of course there was something wrong, Emily wouldn't have dropped by her house ask her to give Lena some special attention otherwise. Lena used to tell her everything… What could be so important she was withholding from her? She wanted to help, but it was difficult to do it in the dark.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She tried, poking Lena in the ribs.

“I do.” She smiled weakly. “Sorry about all this. I didn’t mean to give you trouble...”

“You? Pfft. Custom Mario World games give me trouble, you don’t.”

“I give _everyone_ trouble.” Lena stressed and looked away.

“That’s just not true!” Hana got up and went to the other side of the couch, so Lena would face her. “We love you, silly, just because you’re suffering some stuff right now doesn’t mean it will change! Besides, no one's dying.” She giggled.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Lena practically shrunk on the couch as she heard it. “Yeah, well… I might.”

Hana's jaw dropped. “What do you mean you might?”

“There’s a chance I got some weird magical sickness no one knows how to deal with.” Lena looked really tired. Even her gestures were slow and unmotivated. “It just kills people.”

Hana hesitated. “Always…?”

“Well… We don't really know, but all the cases we've seen died, yes.”

“But you said there's a chance, not that it's already proven, right? It might as well be totally unrelated to the deadly magical sickness and everything will end up alright!”

Lena knew what Hana was trying to do and she appreciated it, really. Thing was, her friend didn't know all the facts: she hadn't seen the things that happened to Lena, read the report Sombra gave them or even knew of the test Winston made. If she did, she’d know how much anything else was unlikely.

Hana noticed Lena wasn't buying her words and, not knowing full well what else she could say, hugged her. “You're not gonna die, I know that. We'll find a way!”

“Thanks, luv. I'd better go back to painting or the paint will dry…” Lena tried to hold the tears, but her voice betrayed her.

“You can wait a couple of minutes.”

“Suppose I can…”

A loud snapping sound made them both jump on the couch. Emily appeared by the window, tumbling, and held herself on the wall. At first it looked like she had just slipped, but when she grasped at her chest with terrified eyes, it was clear something was wrong.

Hana gasped; where the hell did Emily come from?! That spot was empty a moment before, she saw it!

Lena, though went to her girlfriend as quick as she could in her state. “Em, what's wrong?!”

She raised a hand asking for a moment. She took a few deep breaths, steadied herself and sighed, tracing Lena's cheek with a finger. “It's sensory overload, darling. I'm sorry it scared you.”

“That's becoming quite usual lately, no?”

“That's because I'm here more frequently.” She stopped abruptly, stared at Lena and raised an eyebrow. “Did you have a panic attack? You feel very shaken.”

“I… sorry.” She lowered her head.

“It's nothing to be ashamed of, Lena. In fact, I have possibly good news!”

“You do?”

“Yep.” She opened a wide smile, but gasped right after - apparently she was still feeling something from the overload. “You guys feel too much... Hey Hana.”

“You just appeared there!” Hana was still trying to make sense of the events, it seemed.

“Uh, yeah. Let's all sit down first, okay?”

Lena gave her a questioning look, but Emily just messed with her hair. Maybe it was time to fill Hana into the matters properly, after all.

 

\--

 

Angela and Amélie were having a self-care session. It was something Amélie deemed urgently needed when her cousin arrived home cursing heaven and hell after her colleagues at the clinic expelled and prohibited her from coming back before she had a proper rest. _We can’t have you fainting from exhaustion here, Angela!_ They said and left her by her car, crying out pathetically she still had to evaluate some exams. They were right: her eyes were sunk and she looked beyond miserable, in sore need of relaxation and sleep. Amélie knew what to do, but unfortunately - and not surprisingly - she learnt Angela didn’t have bath bombs, fluffy robes or even nice, refreshing body oils. That was when she decided they needed an emergency visit to a spa; Angela tried to argue, it was the middle of the week after all, but she should’ve known there was no discussion with Amélie Guillard when she made up her mind. Soon they were in a cab heading to a spa she didn’t even know existed, but looked absurdly expensive, as anything with the Guillards.

They had a massage so good Angela slept in the middle of it, then a body scrub and a hydrating body wrap. They were both laying on their stretchers covered in lotion and wrapped in towels when Angela asked how Lena was doing, and Amélie gave her the slightly adapted story: Winston was performing some tests and they found out something in Lena messed with time, making her sick every time, and now they were searching for ways to keep it under control. She didn’t mention the incident in the cursed construction site probably had to do with it, about any powers or the fact someone seemed to be after Lena. Angela would certainly try to help them, and she already had too much in her plate without adding unknown magic to it.

Maybe it was because of years of professional experience, but Angela reacted very well to the news. Her subsequent question was about how Lena was dealing with all of that, and it reminded Amélie just how much her cousin cared about everyone’s well being, even though she wasn’t always around.

“She’s not very well, no. She’s panicking constantly, we’re lucky Emily knows just how to calm her.

“Lena should really see a psychologist.” Angela tilted her head towards Amélie as much as she could, wrapped as she was. “It helped you immensely; It’d help her too.”

“We told her to look for one already, but she says digging up old dirt will make her madder than she already is.” She sighed. “She never told us, but Winston said her father was a especially fucked up military captain and she suffered on his hands.”

“All the more reason for her to look for one.”

“I know…”

The esthetician entered the room to unwrap them and the subject was cut short as they went  bathing and to different treatments afterwards. They’d only find each other again on their last session, nail treatments. Amélie commented on how dull it was to keep her nails short and non-threatening, and Angela was quick to point out she’d be way more distressed if she hurt Emily or Lena with them. Amélie asked why she added Lena to the sentence in turn, but the way she blushed was enough to communicate she knew the reason very well already.

“You should ask her out.” Angela gave her an amused look.

“Hmpf!” Amélie replied with a deathly glare and looked away sharply, nose pointed up. Angela couldn’t help but giggle at that; for all the air of mystery and superiority, her cousin was very obviously falling for Lena. It wasn’t like this with Gérard or Emily; maybe some of Lena’s behaviors were influencing her, and it was frankly adorable.

“You know people think you’re a couple already, and Emily would be very enthusiastic about her girlfriends being together.”

Amélie crisped her lips. What could she say to that? She knew it was true. She’d come to terms with the fact she did imagine herself holding and kissing Lena as she saw Emily do it, or that Lena’s teasing messages about demanding them both to include her after those videos sent jolts of electricity down her body every time she imagined the scenario. How could she explain to her cousin she was afraid of asking, though? Lena always looked so in love with Emily, and she was nice and open to everyone, it was difficult for her to read if she was interested in her through the joke flirts and occasional stares.

She didn’t have to answer, though: her phone rang and she answered it too eagerly, making Angela giggle even more. That proved to be a mistake as soon as she heard the person on the other side of the line.

“Hello?” Amélie asked, relieved to have a way out… But then she sat up straight, tense. “ _Bonsoir, maman.”_ Angela immediately leaned in as close as she could with her toe nails being worked on. “ _Oui, ça va bien…”_

Watching that exchange of words was both pitiful and funny. Amélie could only say few words before being cut,  as it always seemed to be the case with her mother, and she wasn’t happy about it. She mentioned having plans in a rather annoyed voice, then scoffed, tried to protest and ended up agreeing a couple of times. Angela wished she could do something, but she also knew it was ephemeral - the only person her aunt listened to was her husband, and even then, only when he was able to soften her and make her think it was her idea all along.

Amélie hung up looking mortified.

“So… What did she say…?” Angela asked quietly.

“They’re coming to celebrate my birthday.” She pressed two fingers to her temple and massaged it.

Angela put a hand over her mouth. “But the house is a mess…!”

Amélie took a deep, pained breath. It wasn’t just the house that was a mess. There was the issue with Lena; the fact that her plans to be homey on her birthday and spend the day cuddling with her girlfriend, then have Lena over because she’d certainly would also like to spend the day cuddling with their girlfriend (and that was totally, completely, absolutely unrelated to the fact Amélie wanted to, maybe, cuddle with her too) were now destroyed by her mother, who’d undoubtedly have them go to a fancy restaurant and be all proper while she talked about how everyone she once knew was well, happy and thriving in the Paris Opera Ballet; the fact she might be led to feel bad because she wasn’t in France, and her mother could find out she was going to work for the Royal Opera Ballet and make a big deal out of it... Too many things were at an impending state of mess.

“I suppose we'll need to clean it up, then…”  


\--


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this one, I'll ask that you believe with all your heart that whenever Amélie's parents are in a scene and dialogue is in italic, people are talking in French, okay? There was just no way I'd have someone translate all of that for me (and I think it would be aa pain to read anyway).
> 
> Well, Happy new year, folks!

The long waited clarification session went as follows:

 

     1. Emily told Hana she was a muse, the general topics about her nature and the circumstances of her stay in the mortal plane.

  1. Hana absolutely didn’t believe it, and asked for proof.


  1. Emily phased out and then back behind Hana, wearing her formal muse attire and bringing a lyre, symbol of her Higher Muse, to add that extra factor that would've made Amélie proud. Hana spilled curses in Korean like a dam when she saw it, and Lena burst into laughter at the reaction.


  1. Hana wanted to know everything about the spirit plane, and got a bit disappointed when she learnt there weren't muses for gamers. There were, however, muses for the people who made the games.


  1. Lena had to intervene when they were going way out of track and discussing what they considered art in the muses community, taking them back to the topic of the “weird magical shit that was going on”, in her words.


  1. Hana learnt what Lena’s “magical illness” was really about, and the first thing she said after the explanation was that it was downright videogame material.



 

“I bet there is something very special about you you gotta figure out, Lena, and then you’ll start time-bending!” Hana’s eyes sparkled with the possibility.

“Amusing as it is, I don’t think this will be quite like Avatar, you know.” Lena snickered. “It might still just kill me, and I won’t even have the cool tattoos...”

“It’s not going to kill you.” Both Hana and Emily said, then looked surprised at each other and nodded.

“By the way, I have to tell you the news now that Hana is properly educated.” Emily continued. “You know Erato, muse of romantic poetry who swore by the Styx she'd tell and be as true as possible to our story? Well, he said he’s been to the House of Urania--”

“The House of what?” Lena tilted her head innocently.

“Urania, higher muse of astronomy? They’re muses of most scientific subjects now, to be honest.”

“So scientists have muses but gamers don't? That’s prejudice!” Hana pouted.

“It’s different kind of field, darling.” Emily patted her on the shoulder. “But there are other kinds of spirits very interested in it, you know? Agons, especially - they're spirits of competition. Also some spirits of strength, tactics, skill… Games overlap with a lot of things. Oh, and I heard Hephaestus is a fan of esports!”

Hana's jaw dropped from what felt like the hundredth time that hour. “The _god_ Hephaestus?!”

“Yup!” Emily had that impish smile gossiping people often had. ”Not that I know him, me, a simple spirit, but that's what they say.”

“Well, that’s cool.” Hana giggled. “I bet he likes Minecraft.”

Lena groaned at that. “He's the god of the forge, he probably thinks it's too simplistic with its blocks.”

“Hey, Lego is literally real life minecraft and people love it, okay?!”

“Of course not! Lego has a lot more shape variety and--”

“ _AHEM_ ” Emily cut them this time. It was amazing how they could get carried away. “As I was saying, Erato went to the House of Urania and people there told him one of their leaders has an ample research on time matters, far more advanced than what you currently have on the mortal plane. We're going there to talk to him tomorrow, first thing.”

“Love, that's great!” Lena hugged her waist, which made her practically lay on Emily's lap, but no one was really complaining. “Thank you so much!”

“I told you we'd find a way, babe, and we will.”

“And then you'll turn into a time-bending superhero!” Hana added, giggling. “We have to think of a name. What about 'overclock’?”

“Overclock? But that's a bad thing…!”

They started discussing superhero names, Hana suggesting the most over the top ones and Emily, in contrast, suggesting the most ridiculous ones. It made them laugh and forget the heavy things for a while.

Next morning, Erato and Emily found out the leader of the House of Urania they sook would not see them because of the latter's ‘disrespectful acts towards ethics and the community’. Emily clenched her fists, bottled up the anger, and with a silver-eyed resolve stated she could wait for when he got off work, then.

Needless to say, she waited for a very long while.

 

\--

 

It was late Thursday afternoon and Amélie fell on her bed like a ragdoll, absolutely exhausted. She had just finished inspecting and adjusting the guests room to her mother's standards, because although Angela hired a person to put the house firmly back into “luxurious and well-kept mansion” territory, there were particularities her mother would certainly complain about if not met, and no one wanted that.

Amélie's bad foot hurt, but she was too tired to mind it properly at the moment, especially when everything else seemed to hurt as well and Baguette flopped to her side adorably.

She'd really like a massage. Where was Emily in her super important time of need?! The thought made her cackle. A lazy servant, she was. She’d need a fitting punishment when she came back, wherever she was.They’d see how well could she explain her absence when Amélie used her _truth-revealing methods_...

A soft smile appeared on her lips. Her beautiful servant… It was two days since she last appeared, and Amélie really hoped it wasn’t anything serious. She could’ve gotten a lead on the things she was researching concerning Lena’s weird temporal interference, for example, instead of being scolded and 'grounded’ one more time... Whichever the case, Amélie wouldn’t complain if she came back sooner rather than later, because she could use the emotional support.

More than that, actually, but she’d get frustrated and horny if she thought too much about it.

“Ah Baguette, sometimes I wish I were a cat as well.” She extended her hand and pat the kitten, who raised an ear towards her. “Things would be so much simpler.”

That was when the doorbell rang, and Amélie wanted to kill whoever was at the gate for making her get up and move being so exhausted. She dragged herself to the front door and to the peephole; an elegant, familiar couple waited behind the gate. In other words, her parents were there.  
  
_Her parents were there._

 

_Merde!_

 

_Okay, stop and think Amélie. You need to change your clothes._

She ran back up the stairs, fueled by anxiety, and went to make herself presentable the quicker she could.  


\--  


A tall older man with striking golden eyes and the poise of a noble looked at the house through the barred gates. He crisped his lips and looked back at his wife, by his side _.“I told you it would be distasteful to arrive here unannounced, mon ange. What about our girl’s plans? What if she’s not home?”_

The woman, equally tall and regal, directed him but a glance before she focused back on buttoning up her heavy coat. London was too annoyingly cold and rainy for her tastes. “ _Then we’ll call her, Edgar. I’m sure Amélie would want her parents to be comfortable and safe before anything else.”_

 _“Of course, Jeanne. I’m just raising the possibility of us making her drop important plans on our behalf. You never know, right? She could be talking to Marie Lewis right now and we’d be interrupting her chances of re-inserting herself in the right circles.”_ Edgar talked in soft, non-threatening tones, and had the sly eyes of a man who had to sneak his way around his wife's unmovable words for very long. He probably was doing just that at the moment.

Jeanne raised an eyebrow in a displeased way. _“Nonsense. She’d have told me if that was the case. After all, I know Marie personally.”_

Edgar said nothing to that, but looked back at the door and opened a cryptic little smile she couldn't really see from her position.

They waited for some time before movement within the front door caught their attention and revealed their daughter, striding in their direction. Both Edgar and Jeanne were taken aback by the sight of her - not because of the limp in her step, which was just as they remembered, but by the wide smile, the sparkle in her eyes and the air of superiority she emanated. They weren’t looking at the sad, hopeless woman they sent to a foreign country to spend some time with her cousin and maybe find herself; they were before Amélie Guillard, their exuberant daughter, and only then they realized how much they missed seeing her like that.

“ _Ma belle cygne!”_ Edgar opened his arms wide as she reached the gate.

“ _Father!”_ She opened a delighted smile, and as soon as the gate was open, she jumped in his arms. _“I missed you both so much!”_

 _“As we did, my dear, but you rarely called.”_ Jeanne approached in order to get a hug herself, but hers was more contained and proper _. “Shall we go in?”_

 _“Of course, mom. I wasn’t expecting you to arrive so early, what happened?”_ Amélie gestured for them to enter so she could lock the gate.

 _“It was a surprise, and we missed you. Was it uncalled for?”_ Jeanne side-eyed Edgar, who was carrying all the bags, as always.

 _“Of course not!”_ She was very quick to answer. _“I was just finishing making the house ready, that’s all. Angela’s working.”_

 _“As usual, she’s never not working.”_ Edgar joked. _“You look so well, Amélie. Healthy and happy. Britain has done you good.”_

Amélie stopped right before the door and gave him a playful look. _“Father, you have no idea…”_  


\--  


The room Winston had been using as a lab was the biggest in the house, and it still was crammed with equipment, boards, shelves and books. It was usually quite orderly, as it was the way with scientific research, but not at the moment: paper piles gathered on and all around the main desk, the whiteboard was covered in diagrams and equations, peanut butter cans laid open and empty on the floor, and a completely exhausted Winston fighted sleep as he typed furiously on his laptop’s keyboard. He was so close to a breakthrough, he could almost grasp a solution for Lena’s troubles in the air… But it didn’t come. That was why he was still up, after forty hours; he refused to let himself sleep and risk losing the train of thought.

He was in the middle of trying to type “continuum” for the third time when he tilted forward and leaned his head on the desk. The fight with sleep was officially lost, and a wooden surface never felt so comfortable.

As he fell asleep with a relieved sigh, he could see the side desk and its monstrous pile of academic books, but for a moment he swore he saw an old man with a white beard and a tunic, a woman in a lab coat and Emily, the three of them looking at his research. The thoughts were quickly lost as he drifted into unconsciousness, though.

 

\--

  


**Amélie**

 

_My parents arrived earlier than we thought_

_Please shoot me_

_3:24pm_

 

_I’ll need to get so drunk after this_

_3:43pm_

 

_Well, it’s going better than I anticipated._

_My mother didn’t even mention the Paris_

_Opera House, which is a miracle…_

_And they both loved Poulain._

 

_By the way, I told them_

_she’s named so, because_

_I could never explain your hideous_

_baguette joke to them,_ chérie.

_6:19pm_

_Oh god Amé I’m so sorry I just saw it now!_

_Glad things are going well…_

_AND BAGUETTE IS A GREAT NAME, OK?!_

_9:03pm_

 

Lena had been painting the whole day, and felt incredibly good. Not only she finished the piece she was going to gift Amélie, but she started another one, an anatomy study based on the Greek statue of Terpsichore from the Hadrian Villa. She imagined Emily would recognize it.  Maybe Lena would even be able to ask her to draw her in a similar pose, just for fun! She’d feel like one of those famous painters making portraits of their muses, except hers was both a muse in title and literally.

Damn, she wondered if her actual muse got jealous of Emily sometimes, even though their roles were supposed to be quite different…

She drifted off and considered a lot of things before her phone buzzed on her pocket. She received annoying marketing messages, it seemed, but it did serve for something: she discovered messages from Amélie, sent hours before. Lena felt instantly guilty - what if she needed her?

Turned out she kind of did, but things ended up okay. Lena still thought it would be best if she could go there, though. Even if Amélie said things were good for now, she clearly wasn’t all that happy with her parents’ visit... When she told Lena they’d called saying they’d come for her birthday her tone was that of someone who’s on the street with no umbrella, seeing a storm approach - she knew she’d have an inevitable hard time. If Lena had a way to take her out of the place she would, but she didn’t know if Amélie would even accept running away and doing whatever she wanted in this situation. They were there because of her, after all… Ugh, family relationships were just too tricky.

 

_Do you want to go out? I know some nice pubs._

_9:25pm_

  


It didn’t take long for Amélie to reply.

  


_I’d love to if I could, but we’ll be out for dinner_

_in a moment, chérie. We’re just waiting for Angela._

_9:27pm_

_Have a great time, then!_

_Can you order the most expensive dessert_

_and take it home for me, please? Expensive_

_desserts are the best! :D_

_9:27pm_

_I’ll see what I can do._

_9:28pm_

 

Lena snickered. Maybe she was starting to get the hang of asking things from Amélie without feeling too guilty! Or maybe she was just shameless towards food. That was more likely… She could almost hear Emily pulling her leg because of that thought, saying that was why she bedded so many girls before.

Lena snickered. She'd certainly protest and then they’d end up either in bed or in a gay cuddling pile at the couch, and both options were pretty attractive to her at the moment.

She hoped Emily was okay, wherever she was, because when she came back and learnt Amélie's parents were there... Lena didn’t know what would happen, but she was sure things would be very interesting.

 

\--

 

Winston had his epiphany at four in the morning. He called Lena at nine, breathless and proud, and told her to come by his house immediately, for he had built her something. She’d been exchanging messages with Amélie for them to have lunch together, away from Angela and Amélie’s parents, but in face of something that important, she would have to drop those plans. She apologized a hundred times over the phone and said she’d go meet her as soon as possible, and even though it was the second time Amélie’s plans were ruined, she was very excited to hear Winston made progress. She wished Lena the best of luck, and they’d surely talk more about it later.

Shortly after the end of that particularly call, someone knocked on Amélie’s  door, and her parents came in with hugs, cheers and a big shiny box wrapped in pearlescent paper. It was cute and unusual to see them being that affectionate - it was like she was ten again, in a way.

 _“Happy birthday, my cygne!”_ Edgar extended the gift to Amélie, pride evident on his eyes as he stared at his beloved daughter.

 _“I hope you like the gift. It was your father’s suggestion.”_ Jeanne gave him a quick smile and gestured towards the box. _“Go on, open it.”_

She did as instructed and gasped slightly, surprised by what she found inside: A beautiful silk long coat, olive green in color, that had beautiful red roses outlined in golden thread from the middle to the hem of it. Amélie ran her fingers through the light, flowy fabric in an almost reverent way before she looked back at them.

“ _It’s grandma’s coat... From when she got the Benois de la Danse…”_ She whispered, impressed and a bit confused. “ _But why? You said-- I remember you saying…”_

Jeanne gave her a soft, mysterious smile. “ _That I’d give it to you when you made it to ballerina of the Paris Opera House, yes.”_

A thought immediately reached Amélie’s mind: _She’s giving it to you because you can’t be that anymore. It’s a consolation prize._

She held her breath and endured the sensation that came with it like a cold rising from her the bottom of her stomach.

 _It is_ _not_ _like that._ She replied internally.

A somewhat acidic feeling was the one to speak, then.

 

 _You know your mother._  


_“So why are you giving it to me now, mom?”_

Jeanne raised a hand and traced Amélie’s jaw lightly, a movement similar to what she often used in ballet. “ _Because I’m very proud of you, ma belle, and I wanted to show you how loved and precious you are for us.”_

It took a moment for Amélie to make sense of what she heard. Years of giving her all to be the best she could as a person, as a dancer, as a daughter… Part of her did it for herself, sure, but she always wanted so much to make her parents, no, her whole lineage proud. All that stride to be the best… It was so ironic that now, after she’d fallen from grace and was learning to walk a different way, that her parents decided to reward her. Amélie snickered and laughed, then; It really wasn’t about results, was it? It was subtler. She almost couldn't believe it.

She enveloped her mother in a tight hug and her father joined in afterwards. Laughter mixed with tears, babbling and thank yous, and Amélie felt safe in their presence for the first time since they arrived - maybe since she had the accident, or before. She didn’t even remember how it was like, and how much she’d missed it…

 _“Thank you so much…”_  


\--

 

_CHR-PR 01 PROTOTYPE INITIALIZING…_

_ALL MODULES SUCCESSFULLY INITIALIZED._

_GATHERING DATA ..._  


“I’m feeling nothing, Big Guy. Is it supposed to be like this?”

Lena raised the pendant to eye level. It consisted of a circular metal structure, a 3d-printed casing and what looked like a small generator inside, one which glowed blue through the glass. The whole thing wasn't bigger than a common compass, and as much as Lena was impressed Winston assembled something like that in a matter of hours, she didn't have a clue how it would help her. He’d tried to explain, of course, but the technical lingo made her head spin… At least she got the part where he explained it would measure the fluctuations in time around her, send data to Winston's active server and beep when it got too out of normal, to warn Lena . How it actually worked, though, was a mystery.

“Yes it is.” Winston typed and fiddled with his measuring equipment, very focused. “It only presented any sort of noticeable physical interference when it was actively working as a suppressor before the limit point of warning, a slight increase in the density of the force field.”

Lena remembered the last time she felt the air become denser, she was in Winston's machine and ended up catatonic on the couch. Well, she preferred to think things would go well this time. “Okay then. So… How do you know it's working, by the way?”

“It’s already sending readings to the main interface in my laptop. We’ll have to test it under distinct circumstances throughout the day so I can start a meaningful evaluation. It’s totally safe, mind you.”

“That’s great, love, but today’s Amélie’s birthday and I was planning to go see her as soon as possible…”

“Winston stopped and adjusted his glasses. “Oh.” He turned to face Lena. “Can you at least stay the afternoon? It would help immensely already.”

Lena thought of Amélie there with her parents alone, and she didn’t like it very much… But helping Winston with his research was of her special interest, and Amélie did say she was doing okay.

“I guess so, but I still want to see her later.”

“That’s fine, we’ll speed it up as we can.”

A loud bang caught their attention and the lights went off and on twice before going definitely dark. Fortunately, Winston had installed an emergency generator for his lab besides the main one, and all his equipment kept on working.

“What was that?” Lena looked around and out the small, crammed window; everything looked alright.

Winston scratched his chin. “Sounded like an overload on the external energy generator. I knew installing two would come in handy.”

In the dim blue light from the electronics, a third human shape just came to be, right beside them.

“I think I blew up something outside. Ouch.” Emily stumbled into Lena and both of them almost fell. Winston shook his head watching this; It seemed everytime Emily arrived, something weird happened.

“Em! Where have you been this time?” Lena enlaced her girlfriend by the waist and brought her close. All the glow around was enough for her to see that she looked exhausted, and, if anything, the shadows gave her the appearance of a zombie from a cheesy horror movie.

“Getting you help through a stamina contest, mostly.” She gave her a tired smile. “I need to go see Amé, I should be there already.”

“That makes two of us but love, you should really seat down and catch a breath. You look terrible.”

“That’s because I spent two whole days on the siege of one of the brightest Uranias around, darling.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “Two days with intervals or…”

“Two days standing in the Hall of Urania making sure I didn’t lose track of his energy so he couldn’t phase away without me going after him.” She told it like it was an amusing anecdote rather than war tactics, and it made Lena mad. Two days straight meant she probably didn’t take care of herself at all!

“Bloody hell Emily, you must be starving! Let me get you something to--”

She put a hand over Lena’s mouth, chuckling. “As much as I like your food, you do remember that it won’t give me sustenance, right?” Lena stopped and sighed, lowering her shoulders. Emily hugged her. “it’s so sweet of you, though!”

Lena grunted something, but she was too squished to be intelligible.

“Hello there, Emily.” Winston waved.

“Hi Winston! Sorry to interrupt the experiment…”

“You’re not. You’re merely creating more variables for the study, so it’s actually helping.”

“Really?”

“Really, but as Lena said, you should rest and get some nourishment.”

“I should get going, actually.” She finally let go of Lena, but started searching her girlfriend’s pockets (and took the opportunity to grope her arse too, she was _very_ far from a saint). “Do you have my spare money with you? I need to get a cab to wherever there’s people dancing, then retrieve the gift from your house and fly to Angela’s. Oh, here it is!”

“Em--”

“Bye darling, bye Winston!”

“Wait!” Lena grabbed her hand right before she got out of reach and pulled her back; Emily swirled back to her with unnecessary theatricality - she really spent too much time with Amélie - landing right in her arms.

“Yes?” Emily tilted her head.

“Amélie’s parents are there with her, they arrived yesterday.”

Emily didn’t say it, but her expression immediately changed from mild surprise to the realization of an incoming shitstorm: she opened her mouth to say something, closed it back and froze, then took a deep breath and scoffed. “And no one’s hurt yet?”

“Last time we talked no, things were going fine.”

Emily nodded slowly. “I do hope she wasn’t just saying it not to worry you.”

Lena hoped so too. She wondered just how bad things could get if everyone seemed to have a sort of bad reaction at the mention of Amélie’s parents...  


\--  


Tate Modern was a mesmerizing art gallery. Jeanne Guillard made a point of visiting it whenever she was in London, and this time was no exception; after admiring the exhibits, the Guillard-Ziegler group sat at a table on the terrace, enjoying drinks from the bar, watching the city around.

Amélie was tired from all the walking, but the trip was enjoyable so far. They weren’t exerting themselves too much, and even though she wanted to stay home and maybe watch a movie, it was nice to chat about how things were going back home.

 _“...And then Johann took him to Starbucks to cool down, the lovely guy. Harry really appreciated that.”_ Edgar finished his story, taking a sip of his mocha, and raised his eyebrows for effect.

Angela had a hand covering her mouth in surprise. _“God, someone could’ve died!”_

 _“I know, it’s crazy. Fortunately, fate was kind.”_ He smiled.

Amélie took a sip of her own mocha and said nothing. Having a shameless spirit girlfriend taught her some things, and in that case, she hardly believed anything that happened had to do with fate. A part of the light grid dropping and a man stopping just before he’d be hit by it sounded more to her like someone from the other plane helped - a guide or a protector, even a muse stopping him before tragedy. She wasn’t going to voice it, though.

 _“Amélie, sweetie, you told me you’ve been doing physiotherapy, right? It’s remarkable how your foot has strengthened and your flexibility is back.”_ Jeanne came back with coffee from the bar and sat by her daughter. Angela gave Amélie a cautious look as she did so, and Amélie returned it with an acknowledgement - they both knew the conversation was likely leading to the usual inquiries about Amélie’s desires to go back to France and eventually rejoin the Paris Opera Ballet.

 _“I’ve had a lot of help, mom, and I’m getting better with myself.”_ Amélie’s eyes softened for a moment.

“ _That’s very good to hear. I’m sure it has to do with the company you’ve been keeping, am I right?”_ Jeanne didn’t have her daughter’s golden eyes, but her stare could be every bit as penetrating.

 _“Yes. Emily and Lena are wonderful people, as I told you in the calls before. In fact, they’ll hopefully be joining us later, when you actually tell me where we are going for the evening.”_ Amélie tilted her head, upholding the stare in a soft but unyielding way, and that made Jeanne smile.

“ _Nuh-uh, It’s a surprise. If you want, though, I could send them a message with the hour and location, just give me their numbers.”_

Amélie gave her a look. _“So you can pester them about me as you please? Oh no, mom. I’d rather wait.”_

 _“My, I would never do that.”_ She put a hand over her chest, but it was clear she wasn’t really offended. After that, though, her words turned even softer, and if Amélie knew her, that probably meant she was after something. “ _But you’re being remarkably vague about those two. What are you trying to hide, sweet?”_

 _“Nothing. I just don’t feel the need to tell you more than I already have, that's all. It’s a surprise.”_ Amélie had the same tone, carefree and soft, but she studied her mother like any Guillard knew to do. Being from a noble family meant you learnt to always look for people’s hidden motives everywhere. _“You’ll meet them and_ _make all the embarrassing questions yourself, I’m sure.”_

 _“That much is true.”_ Jeanne chuckled. She also made a point of not looking at Edgar, who stared at her with reproving eyes. Having lived with him for almost twenty five years, she knew he was doing just that.

 _“I have Lena’s phone and I can tell her the address, if you’d like.”_ Angela intervened, shifting into her seat. Edgar patted her in the arm and gave a sympathetic look.

“ _That would be appreciated, thank you.”_

“ _Now that it’s settled, ma cygne, tell me of the fun times you had here! I’m sure you have stories.”_ Edgar quickly rushed in, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. As though as the others gladly took the bait and started talking about it, he noticed his wife had the stubborn frown on - she'd go back to the inquiry, it was only a matter of time.

Amélie didn’t seem to notice - or chose to ignore - her mother's behavior. She took a sip of her mocha and started the first tale that came to mind. “ _There was this time when we were at a japanese restaurant celebrating a victory - Lena’s friend is a professional gamer, you see - and we decided to have a go at the karaoke--”_

“Oh darling, I wasn’t even here and you were going to expose me like that? What a shame, miss Guillard!

Everyone turned at the sudden burst of English spoken towards them, except for Amélie - she just opened a wide smile. “A shame would be denying them the story, ma coeur.” she replied, in English, and got up to face her girlfriend: Emily was there, hair tied back in a greek braid, eyes of a blue like the sky in a sunny day, and a bouquet of red roses firm in her hands as she extended it to Amélie.

“Happy birthday, love.” Emily purred, and Amélie had no choice but to kiss that lovely woman.

“I didn't expect you to find us here.” She took the flowers giggling like a teenager whose crush just said hi to. She knew it was ridiculous, but didn't mind at all.

“A tiny bird with chaotic hair told me. Now…Are these your parents?”

“Oh, of course, I-- Mom, dad, this is Emily. Em, these are Jeanne and Edgar Guillard, my parents.”

Only after Amélie introduced them it occurred to her that Emily knew them already, from all the times she spent visiting her as a spirit. She was a good actress, it seemed - and also a cynical bitch, but that was part of why she loved her.

“Ah, the famous Emily!” Edgar's English had a stronger accent than Amélie's, and it was almost as velvety. He got up and shook Emily's hand, ever the gentleman. “I'll tell you, four out of ten words Amélie said in her calls were your name.”

Amélie put a hand on her forehead, a little blush rising on her cheeks. “I don't think coherent speech would work with that proportion, père.”

“And since when people in love are coherent, _ma cygne_?”

Both Emily and Angela laughed.

_“Amélie talks a lot about you too, mr. Guillard. She says you're absolutely delightful.”_

Both Edgar and Jeanne were surprised to hear her talking in perfect French. Jeanne even smirked, but it was unclear if it was a good smirk or not... That didn't seem to bother Emily, though, as she walked to the woman and offered a hand.

_“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Guillard.”_

Jeanne shook her hand without getting up from her seat, and if anything, she looked like a perfect greek statue - Emily would've said it was one of Hera, the judgemental matron. _“I hope I can say so myself. Do you have a surname, or am I supposed to go by Emily?”_

_“Mom!--”_

_“It’s Terpsis, but it's perfectly fine to call me by the first name.”_ She smiled.

 _“Emily, then. Have a seat, let us know more about you - I’m sure you must be very unique if you picked our girl's interest.”_ She opened a little smile.

Edgar gave her a look. _“Now now, Jeanne, there's no need to--”_

“ _She absolutely is, mom, starting by the fact she saved me from jumping from a bridge with only a handful of words.”_

Silence took hold of the table like someone clicked the mute button on a cosmic tv. Everyone looked at Amélie with wide eyes, for different reasons, of course: Angela, for example, was really surprised she decided to tell that to her parents at all, after asking her so vehemently not to do it at the time. Emily was just surprised she decided to set things on fire so soon, but she wasn't opposed to it at all, as long as Amélie knew what she was doing (and bonus if she was having a blast out of it). Her parents, of course, were in shock.

 _“That was the easy part, darling.”_ Emily chuckled. _“The difficult one was to convince you I wasn't a total stalker, I just happened to have seen you at the ballet a couple of times.”_

 _“A couple. You're so cynical.”_ Amélie gave her a fake reproving look, followed by a smile.

_“What, I did! A couple times in Giselle, a couple times in La Bayadère, a bit more than that in Swan Lake - can't a girl be professionally lovestruck?!”_

_“Professionally, right.”_

They paused - and then started giggling like two idiots.

 _“You tried to kill yourself, chérie…?”_ Caught in their usual back and forth, nor Amélie or Emily noticed the reactions of the other people at the table. However, now that Jeanne's voice came out a hesitant whisper, they couldn't ignore how pale and mortified she was. _“Why didn't you… Angela…!”_

Angela's eyes flickered to Amélie for support, but regardless, she put on her best professional mask to reply. _“Amélie asked me not to tell you, aunt.”_

 _“But it was our right to know!”_ Jeanne suddenly had an outburst. _“We could've done something! We could've helped!”_

_“I have to agree with your mother here, Amélie, l must've been something--”_

_“No, there wasn't.”_ Amélie put a hand over her father's, then looked at her mother and back. _“It was not about you. You didn't know what else to do, remember? That's why you sent me here with Angela. You were out of ideas.”_

That was true and they knew it - it was in their eyes and postures, that anguish of wanting to do something but not knowing what.

 _“We’re sorry, ma cygne, we're so sorry…”_ Edgar looked haunted.

_“It was not your fault. It's okay now.”_

It took a couple more of tries and some help from Angela and Emily to convince her parents she was doing much better. They reminded them she was seeing a psychologist, taking proper medicine (Angela even described how it worked for them, explaining the hormonal peculiarities of depression) and was adapting very well to life in London, despite the British and the food.

At last, Jeanne turned to Emily and Angela with an air of contained gratitude. _“Thank you so much for taking care of our daughter.”_

Angela nodded, her eyes soft. _“Of course, aunt, we'd never let her down!”_

 _“Besides, depriving the world of her would've been a crime, mrs. Guillard. We did our civic duty!”_ Emily added, cheeky.

Amélie snickered, rolling her eyes, but the hint of a smile was visible on the corner of her lips.

Edgar snorted. _“I like you._ ”

Emily winked. _“I'm very glad she's here with us._

 _“All of us feel the same way, I can assure you.”_ Angela had relief stamped all over her face. She reached for her cup and missed it, making it shift a bit, but grabbed it afterwards and took it to her lips. Only the sweet embrace of an alcoholic beverage could help her relax like she needed, if the rest of the day was going to be as bombastic as this start.

 _“Angela is right. We are here to celebrate it, are we not?”_ Jeanne smiled towards her daughter. _“The twenty eight years since our little Amélie came to be, so small and beautiful.”_

The Amélie in question looked a little  embarrassed, but also touched - it was a weird amount of affection from her mother that day. She guessed learning her daughter attempted suicide had that effect on parents… Still, she couldn't shake the feeling something was about to happen to destroy all of that.

Emily felt her growing distress and came to her aid as she could. _“Do you have any childhood stories, Mrs. Guillard? I bet Amélie was a fun child.”_

Amélie scoffed, but Jeanne outright laughed in contrast, just as it tends to go when mothers and daughters all over are asked that question.

_“I believe Amélie will murder me if I tell you, chérie, but I can say she always wanted to be a dancer. You know how it is.”_

_“That I really do.”_

_“By the way, Emily, she never told me which is your area of expertise.” Jeanne leaned forwards with a glint in her eyes that only appeared when she was talking about her favorite subject. “What do you dance?”_

Amélie opened her mouth to say something, but Emily immediately pressed a hand to her thigh to silence her. With the intensity on her stare, one could wonder if she was excited by the exchange. _“I dance a lot of things, but I definitely like the modern stuff… And I have a soft spot for the freestyle, I won't lie.”_

Jeanne raised an eyebrow. _“Interesting. Who do you have as an inspiration?”_

 _“Right now a five-year old girl from the Philippines, she's wonderful, you should see.”_ She giggled with genuine joy, excited about one of the people she was a muse for. It was sweet to hear her talking about her work, and every one of the few times she did it, it occurred to Amélie that they didn't ask her enough about it. _“But that's not what you meant, right?”_ She showed Jeanne a fun, adorable smirk. _“Martha Graham. She was a downright genius.”_

Jeanne nodded slightly. _“She was absolutely mesmerizing. I was lucky to see her once, when she was in Paris. She danced like she was made of raw feeling, and expressed it like no other.”_

_“Terpsichore herself was looking out for her, I heard.”_

Jeanne frowned, confused, but Edgar let out an amused hum _.”Someone knows her myths well, huh?”_

 _“They have their charm - and with all the magic in the world, who knows if they're not around?”_ Emily wriggled her eyebrows, taking Amélie's almost empty glass and drinking the rest of it in one go.

Things were going well so far, and that made Amélie so grateful, but the anxiety was never gone. She wanted her parents to approve of her company. It was a bit shameful for her to admit that, she was an adult after all, but if they could only see a tiny bit of all the things that made her love Emily (and Lena when they met), they'd certainly grow fond of her too, and they'd be able to have some good times together: Amélie could almost see all of them chatting about a ballet they just watched, everyone with a different opinion on who was the best performer, Lena commenting on the props and the visual, they all going out for dinner after… It brought a smile to her face.

 _“So Emily, where have you studied?”_ Jeanne, unaware of the daydreaming going on at the other side of the table, went back to her previous inquiry.

Edgar crisped his lips by her side, offering an apologetic look to the others.

 _“A bit everywhere.”_ Emily chuckled. _“There are things to be learnt in the most unexpected corners if you look closely, you know?”_

This time all of Jeanne's noble composure couldn't refrain her from scoffing ever so slightly.

_“You can't have a solid base if you won't settle and study one thing thoroughly before moving to the next. That's a rookie mistake.”_

Amélie's heart raced on her chest. Of course things couldn't remain calm. It was beginning... The trainwreck was beginning.

_“I never said that's not what I did, mrs. Guillard - but why don't you see for yourself what kind of dancer I am, later? I understand we're going to take Amélie for dinner, right? If we could pass through Trafalgar Square before it, today is one of the days a band I really enjoy plays there. I think it would be the perfect place for a demonstration.”_

_“Emily, that's not necessary. In fact, maman, she's not applying for a position at the ballet, you shouldn't be asking for her resume!”_ Amélie couldn't hold herself anymore, not when her girlfriend was offering to be evaluated by her mother.

_“I was just curious, Amélie. She's the one offering to show her skills.”_

_“I don't mind, really”_ Emily turned to Amélie with a thoughtful expression, likely reading the turmoil inside her. _“but I understand that's probably too much too soon. We can just go home instead.”_

The way Amélie's shoulders let go of the tension said enough of what she thought about the subject. _“Merci.”_

 _“That way we'll have more time to get ready for dinner, huh?”_ Angela tried to be helpful and offer a point, but the way her voice sounded it was clear she was trying to avert an incoming conflict.

Amélie thought it was sad how desperately thy both tried that, and honestly, she just wanted to go home and lay down at that point. With Emily holding her tight, preferably.

 _“Very well.”_ Jeanne smiled. _“If you can show me the bathroom first, though…”_ And she looked at Emily like she knew exactly who she wanted to accompany her.

Amélie got up, though. _“I've been here a couple of times, I'll go with you.”_

They proceeded to have an argument in the bathroom, but that was frankly expected by everyone at the table.  


\--  


“I’m sorry, Amé. I really am.”

Of all the things going on that day, it was the first time one of Amélie’s desires was fulfilled: she laid in her bed in Emily’s arms, and she wished she could stay there until everything went away.

“I thought she’d be nicer to you if she knew you had saved me.” She said quietly.

“I know. I wasn’t the most agreeable too, so it’s also my fault.”

“You’re never the most agreeable, _chérie_ , just when it matters. It’s one of the awesome things about you.”

“But still… I stoked the fire asking if she’d see me dance. I thought she’d respect me, then.”

“You’re not wrong about that. It just… Made me too anxious. I know you’d probably surprise her, but even then, the idea of my mother evaluating you…” Amélie sighed. “I want to run away.”

“We can jump out the window, no one’s watching.”

Amélie stopped and took a distance to look at Emily better, frowning. “Really? What are we, teenagers?”

“Nah. If we were, I’d be fucking you on top of her bed just to mess with her.” Emily said bluntly, a cheeky smile on her face. “Which I have considered, by the way,  but I prefer to bury you in affection right now.”

Amélie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re a libertine.”

“ _Your_ libertine, _araignée du soir_.”

“...And there we go, I really want to take your clothes off now--”

Before she could do anything, though, the doorbell rang.

“Are we expecting anyone?” Emily frowned.

“Not that I-- Oh yes, Lena!”

They looked at each other and jumped out of bed, running out the door.

 

\--

 

Lena Oxton looked like she made her best effort to look sharp in her suit (she even put on decent, matching shoes rather than sneakers), but her hair didn’t quite agree with it. It sticked out to the side in a weird way, like she tried to tame it with gel but it didn’t work entirely, and she didn’t notice so far, but a button on her shirt was mismatched. Regardless all of that, she was as lively and cute as always, and Edgar, who was sitting at the living room petting Baguette when she entered the place with Angela, immediately liked her.

“Oh hello there.” Edgar said in his velvety English, and opened a warm smile.

Angela immediately got to the introductions. “This is Lena. Lena, this is Amélie’s father, Edgar.”

“Oh hey!” She tried to run to him, but the bag with a big rectangular thing covered in black plastic made a point of making everything difficult. “Ugh, stupid painting!”

“Painting…?” He frowned.

“Oh yeah, that’s Amé’s gift, but don’t tell her!” She put a finger over her mouth and giggled, then finally shook his hand.

“Lena’s a graphic artist.” Angela explained. “Does anyone want something from the kitchen?”

“Lena!” Next thing Lena saw was ginger hair all over her face, as she was squeezed by Emily. “I thought you wouldn’t make it!”

“I told you I’d come.” She giggled. “Amé, hi! Happy birthday!”

Amélie was still on the last steps of the ladder, but she made her best to go and join the hug as fast as she could. “Thank you, _chérie_. What’s this black thing? My gift, by any chance?”

“Yeah! Go on, open it! I may have overpacked it because of the rain, though…”

It didn’t take that long to unpack at all. Emily helped, and soon everybody on the room was looking at the painting of a sleek, beautiful woman sitting by a window, the streaks of sequins on her ballet attire glinting in the moonlight like a wet spider’s web. There were bands on one foot and calf, and faint lines of scars could be seen below it. Her golden eyes were pale and silvery on the poor illumination, and she had an ominous, serene smile on her face as she looked out. Overall, she looked like a fae, a nymph or one of those cursed princesses from fairy tales.

“It’s turned out a bit ostentatious, I know” Lena started, scratching the back of her neck. “But I was drawing you from memory and I really wanted to capture what I think of you. And I like that if you don’t look closely, you could say it’s just a ballerina, because well, who’s got a painted portrait of herself hanging around in this day and age, right?” She giggled, and she was turning more and more red as Amélie said nothing, focusing on the painting instead. “...Amé?”

“That's amazing, Lena.” Amélie finally turned to her, mesmerized. “I love it. I really, really love it.”

With that, she pulled her close and hugged her as much as she could with an arm.

“Really?! Aw yeah, score for team Tracer!”

At that time, Jeanne entered the room with a tray of tea and frowned slightly at the scene. Who was that boy Amélie was hugging? She never mentioned a boy on her calls, and not one that… Peculiar.   

 _“Oh, we have a newcomer?”_ She said softly, in French.

Amélie let go of Lena in a reflex, like a teenager caught making out with someone. “Yes! Mom, this is Lena. Lena, Jeanne, my mother.  We can talk in English now.”

 _“Lena?”_ Oh, so it was a girl with an overly masculine look, right. She did have a delicate face. _“Bonsoir, chérie.”_

Amélie gave her mother a look. She had just told her to speak English, for god's sake…!

“Nice to meet you!” Lena smiled. “Wow, I can see where Amé got her beauty, ma'am, you're gorgeous!”

“Thank you.” Jeanne nodded, talking in English this time. “You painted this? It's very beautiful. Here, I brought tea - and Angela, I'll have to insist on asking you to hire a maid for next time. It took me an unnecessary amount of time to make this when we could've enjoyed more time together.”

Lena blinked, then looked at Emily with a puzzled look. Was Amélie's mother really complaining about something as trivial as making tea? Damn, rich people really were something else.

“I'll think about it, I promise.” Angela replied. “For now, let's just enjoy the tea!”

 

\--

 

The tea was okay but weak, just as Amélie used to do it. It was probably a French thing, Lena thought.

While she updated Amélie and Emily on the things she'd been doing with Winston (without sparing too many details, as they weren't alone) she noticed the looks Jeanne gave Emily and her, then whispered in French with her husband, who didn't look very interested in her chatter. Lena wanted to ask Emily to pay attention and tell her what they were saying, but that would probably make her notice something that would make her furious, so she didn't do it. It was still Amélie's birthday, and she'd try to make it as pleasant as possible to her, and that meant no fights.

This resolution, however, didn't make Amélie deaf, and she caught a fragment of a sentence that made her whip back towards her mother, her eyes burning with surprise and incredulity.

 _“What did you say?”_ She asked in French. “ _What did you call her?!”_

Jeanne didn't show any sign of alarm when she replied. _“Pardon me? What are you talking about?”_

_“Don't take me for a fool, mother - you've been muttering like an old woman this whole time. What is it?”_

They kept going, and Lena finally poked Emily for an explanation.

“What are they saying…?” She said quietly, observing just how Amélie was getting angry and Jeanne, cold.

Emily made a grimace. “It looks like Jeanne was talking about you behind your back, in French, so you wouldn't understand.” She frowned.

“That's no big deal, why is Amé so worked up?”

“Because… What the fuck, did she just--!”

Emily got up and joined the Angry French Argument Club, and that finally made it explode in shouted sentences and curses all over, with Angela and Edgar trying to de-escalate things, Emily and Amélie cornering Jeanne, and a very, very confused Lena in the eye of the storm. What was going on, bloody hell?! People shouted and pointed at her, then shouted more and looked mad, and the only certainty was that she really needed to search for a French course as soon as possible if she wanted to prevent this sort of confusion in the future.

“It's not up to you anymore!” Amélie roared in English, all her body inflated towards her mother in a challenge. “I will stay here in England and I won't have you insulting the people I love! In fact, mother--”

It was too quick, or maybe Lena was too shocked, but Amélie turned and pulled her in for a kiss. It was urgent, clumsy and voracious, and Lena couldn't help but feel weak on her legs at the display of dominance. It didn't matter if it was to prove a point she didn't even understand yet - Amélie was kissing her, and she was too much of a gay mess to react otherwise. Not to mention she had been fantasizing about it on the corners of her mind for a while...

“Oho, finally!” Emily cheered at them, laughing, her eyes sparkling like she got a Christmas gift.

“What is the meaning of that?!” Jeanne shouted in English, furious.

Lena was bewildered when Amélie let go of her, but she caught the next words perfectly as Amélie said them:

“These are the women I love, both of them, and you've been insulting them with your incessant judgement the whole day, mother. I will not tolerate that! You will behave yourself or leave, am I clear?!”

Jeanne looked speechless for the first time in the night… Just like everybody else, to be honest.

“Think on your actions - I'm going out, and when I come back, I expect a clear apology. _Allez!_ ”

She stormed out of the living room and upstairs, to get her purse. Emily followed close behind, but it took Lena a moment more to follow, tumbling her way up.

 _“But we have a reservation at The Ledbury, Amélie!”_ Jeanne shouted. _“Do you know how long is the wait list?!”_

 _“Jeanne, enough!”_ Edgar finally got up, making Baguette jump out of his lap with an offended meow, and grabbed his wife by the arm. _“That's shameful and terrible of you, leave her alone!”_

_“But I--”_

_“You've already wrecked everything, Jeanne. Congratulations. Now step down.”_

She looked at her husband and scoffed. _“She's doing it wrong.”_

Edgar rolled his eyes. _“Whatever you say. I'm going for a walk.”_

He walked out the door with Angela on his heels, and it was worth of note she had grabbed a bottle of brandy at some point and took it with them. Oh, the sweet embrace of alcohol.

Jeanne Guillard found herself alone in the living room, mad and thwarted, and there was nothing to be done about that.  


\--  


“Amé, Amé look at me! We're on the cab already. They're far away - you can let go now.”

Amélie had sat on the cab taut as a bowstring, teeth clenched and fury burning in her whole demeanor. Emily held her face on her hands and whispered softly, but she was having a bit of trouble making her let go of the aggression, understandably.

“Amé, it's just us. Try to take a breath with me, come on.”

She did as instructed - inhaled, exhaled and ended up sighing at the end, going limp. “What a mess.” She said.

“You were very brave, darling.” Emily caressed her cheeks with her thumbs, and when the first tears started falling, she wiped them out lovingly. “Standing up to your mother is no small feat.”

Instead of replying, Amélie turned her gaze to Lena, who was likely trying to go invisible on her side of her seat. “Lena, I…”

She couldn't complete the sentence. Lena messed her own hair up, making it stand as usual, and shifted on her seat.

“N-no, it's okay! It's okay, I get it! You kissed me to get your mother angry and make a point, it's no big deal--”

“Would you be my girlfriend as well, Lena?”

Lena could swear the next seconds were suspended in time, just by the strength of her surprise. Her heart raced, she felt dizzy and a bit drunk, but also euphoric - just like when Emily asked her the first time. Realizing that, she had her answer already.

“For real?” She still asked, to be sure.

“Yes, you foolish girl, for real!” Amélie put a hand over her forehead, scoffing.

“Of course!”

Lena threw herself towards Amélie, squeezing Emily in the process and falling in both their laps, then pulling Amélie in for the most awkward series of kisses of the night. Emily giggled like crazy watching them both - if Lena and Amélie were now girlfriends and she was a girlfriend to both, they were a trio right now. A beautiful, loving trio. How cool was that?!

It seemed the night could still be saved, after all. If anything, it was only starting.

  


\--

 


	30. Chapter 30

The pub was okay, as far as pubs went. It was clean and it wasn't absurdly crowded on a Friday night, but the drinks were expensive and it had screens everywhere, because apparently a person can't go to a pub and not want to see the sports channel for even a moment.

These things didn't bother Angela, though. She was at the bar chatting with her uncle Edgar, and the barman was always refilling their cups with a smile. They didn't care how much alcohol they had ingested so far, but it was clear on their red faces and loose movements it was way more than a few cups.

The screens showed the best moments from the week's soccer matches, but no one really cared.

“...And I work my ass off, I really do!” Angela was loud and upset, and she waved her cup around as she gesticulated. If it wasn't just half full, she'd have spilled whiskey all over and not even noticed. “I save everybody! Do they thank me?  _ Nooooooo,  _ of course not! It's just Angela, she always does this stuff!”

Edgar nodded with enthusiasm. “They take you for granted.”

“They take me for granted!” She repeated, slamming the cup on the table, this time spilling liquid around. “But who tries to make them comfortable? Who cares about them going around and killing themselves because you're not around? Me, of course! But it's always just Lena and Emily who take the credit. Who cares if they're nice and caring and adorable and pretty and have this unique magic about them? I'm the cousin and I'm trying hard as well!” She pouted, then drank the rest of her cup in one go, and it led to a small fit of coughing that prompted Edgar to give her some slaps in the back.

“Oh Angie, you are a precious woman as well. Maybe you should get a boyfriend.” Edgar paused and frowned. “Or a girlfriend. Did you ever say which one do you prefer? Well, whatever.” He shook his head. “As long as they make you happy and treat you right, that's what you need”

“I work way too much for that!” She grunted and sighed.

“...And to get laid. You also really need that.”

“No I don't-- you're my uncle, that's awkward.” She looked away, to the barman, and pointed to her cup. “Bring me one more!”

“I think we drank a lot already.” As if to prove the point, Edgar raised his hand but it drifted right down, slowly. “We should… What do you think of that woman?”

He pointed to a lonely figure on the other edge of the bar, a dark-skinned woman with black straight hair that barely reached her shoulders. She wore an overcoat and sipped from her beer in a somewhat curved, tense position, like she had too much on her head to worry about and couldn't really relax.

“Oh she's hot.” Angela giggled. “Wait, I think I know her. She's Lena's friend!” She remembered her from the time Lena was in the hospital after the car accident, they traded a couple of words in the waiting room and Angela couldn't really engage in more conversation without looking at her strong arms, so she dropped it at the time. Now, however… “I gotta go say hi!”

“Well go get her!” Edgar laughed. “I’ll be right here!”

Angela did go, using the counter as a support not to wobble and fall. Her vision was seriously floating at the point. The woman didn't notice her approaching, deep in thought as she was.

“Aren't you Lena's friend, Ana's daughter?” Angela asked, a silly drunken smile on her face.

Fareeha Amari was taken by surprise, turning fast to her with a hand already on the gun holster, but she relaxed when she saw it was only a blonde, beautiful woman. A blonde, beautiful woman who also happened to be really drunk, it seemed. “Yes, that's me. You're… I know you. We've seen each other before, right? I just can't remember…”

Angela nodded with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Yeah! I'm Angela, your future wife. We saw each other visiting Lena a while ago.”

“Ah, right!” Fareeha put a hand on her forehead, looking surprised with her own lack of memory. “At the waiting r-- wait,  _ what?” _

Angela didn't answer, just gave her a smooth, unreliably drunk look. Fareeha blushed hard and looked away, hoping it didn't show too much under her dark skin.

“I, uh… wow.” She chuckled, embarrassed, and the profissional mode kicked in. “Are you here by yourself, miss Angela? It would be wise to go home and rest, but you should absolutely not be driving right now.”

“Oh, you want to take me home this soon, lovely?” Angela put a hand over her chest and laughed, winking. “Please do it!”

Even Fareeha's ears were burning, in face of that. “I-I will call you a cab, hang on a moment.” She starting searching the inner pockets of her coat frantically for her phone, and in a mechanical way at the same time; she looked like a badly animated model feom old 3d videogames.

Angela pouted. “I'm here with my uncle, we're fine. Why don't you come chat with us? We can pay your drinks.”

Fareeha's eyes darted to her - bad idea. Bad,  _ bad _ idea - and then back to her pockets. “I actually have to go back home, you see, my poor mother always waits for me…”

“Aw, that's a pity.”

“It really is. Another time, maybe?”

“I'll even write it down so I don't forget.” Angela winked again.

Fareeha chuckled and got up clumsily, almost knocking her beer in the process, then extended her a hand.  “So see you, miss Angela?”

“Goodbye Fareeha.” She shook it.

Never before a woman went so fast to pay up and leave the place. 

As Angela went back to Edgar, he had leaned on the counter and was now in the process of sleeping over his arms, snoring softly. She sighed, and took his unfinished cup in her hands.

“Well, to the dumb singles” she raised it and drank it all in one go. “and to the alcohol who understands them.”

 

\--

 

Amélie drifted awake by hearing a soft whisper. She thought it was part of a dream at first, but as conscience returned, she realized it was a known, cherished voice: Lena was mumbling something.

“ _...And then the Goddess slept, and bloody hell she was pretty, like, marbled skin, full lips and this black-blue dress with feathers on the collar and strips of a long translucent cloth dangling from its shoulders. Her black long hair glinted in the moonlight almost like it had a million tiny stars in it… She was peaceful, almost too beautiful for this world.” _

_ “And the Trickster was there watching her sleep like a creep?”  _ That derisive chuckle was unmistakably Emily's, and Amélie felt all warm and fuzzy inside hearing them talking just like two teenager confidents. She didn't alert them to the fact that she was awake yet - she wanted to hear more of their conversation, as a sort of guilty pleasure.

“She's not being creepy, she's guarding her sleep!” Lena scoffed. “Like she's done for so, so long while her goddess was trapped in slumber at the temple!”

“Aw Lena, that's so sweet.”

“It's kind of what you've done to Amélie, though. I just adapted it.”

 

Silence.

 

“Oh Em, you  _ are _ a big softie!”

“I just love her so much, okay?! If you didn't notice yet.”

As Amélie opened her eyes slightly, she saw Emily right next to her, laying down on her belly but holding her head on her hands and looking at a Lena laying down as well, fairly out of her sight. Didn't matter, really; she had the perfect opening right there.

“And the goddess loves you back” Amélie purred, her hand snaking its way to Emily's freckled back. “So much.” Her fingers went up at an excruciating slow pace - one, two, like ghostly fingertips walking up her spine. It might as well have made everything stop to watch as she teased and Emily arched her back at the touch, mouth slightly ajar, eyes gently shutting. “ _ Bonjour, ma coeur _ .”

With that, she lifted her fingers; Emily moaned and groaned in protest - then shoved a pillow over her head and groaned some more. 

“Oh love, she got you right, huh?” Lena couldn't help but laugh at that scene. “Morning Amé, did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully.” She flashed her a lazy smile and stretched, feeling the amazing sensation of having her relaxed muscles tense and then release it. “But I should be the one asking you that. Did you enjoy your new bed, chérie?”

Lena glanced around. Her living room looked like chaos with the furniture pushed aside to give space to a king-size mattress, where the three of them were currently tangled with blankets and pillows. The night before Amélie made the cab change its course in order to find a store where they could buy said mattress, as soon as they decided they were going to Lena's house. She had a single bed, and there was no way three women were going to fit there, or that they could make a comfortable bed out of blankets. No, she was Amélie Guillard, part of the French nobility; she'd buy Lena a new mattress. In fact, she'd put on an order for a whole new bed, and if it didn't fit her current bedroom, she'd buy her a new apartment if she wanted.

“It couldn't be better. Cor, you're crazy.” Lena giggled.

“No  _ chérie,  _ I'm rich.” She smirked and sat down, taking some hair out of her face.  “Emily, are you alive under that pillow?”

Emily let out an exaggerated pained grunt as a reply. Amélie gave Lena an impish look and ran a hand up Emily's inner thigh; she arched upwards so fast the pillow was catapulted to the opposite wall and fell flat on the couch.

“Oh, you're so sensitive.” Amélie purred.

“You could’ve had me begging the first time, you know.” Emily whispered. “It's not like I can't sense how you're feeling.”

Amélie arched an eyebrow, but her smirk widened. “We didn't even have breakfast yet, you hasty thing.”

“I could be the breakfast.”

“Actually, I made pancakes!” Lena said brightly, sitting down as well. “I meant to bring them here while they were warm, but Emily told me to let you sleep…”

“We went to sleep late, and Lena woke up early today.” Emily explained. “You looked very tired.”

“A good tired.”

After they arrived at Lena's flat with a king-size mattress - the people from the store had a hard time making it pass through the door, by the way - and settled themselves, the three women ordered japanese food from Hanzo's restaurant and put on dance movies from the 80s. Emily and Amélie were really enthusiastic about them, and it baffled them that Lena hadn't seen even one.  _ “Not even Dirty Dancing?!”  _ Emily asked at the time, taken by surprise. When Lena said no, all hell broke loose with Amélie and Emily telling her it was the best movie and how Patrick Swayze was hot - and Jennifer Grey was too - and enacting a part of the last dance together while sitting among the blankets.

With all of that happening before the movie started, the rest of the night could only be better.

They watched  _ Dirty Dancing, Flashdance _ and  _ Footloose _ , complete with dance commentary provided by the dance experts in the house, hottest girls commentary by the expert on women (Lena), and finally, commentary on all the 80s stuff that was outdated and funny nowadays by all of them. They had a great time and discovered Lena always wanted an industrial flat with huge windows like the protagonist of  _ Flashdance _ had.

Cuddling, joking and watching things with her girls -  _ girlfriends!  _ \- was all Amélie wanted for her birthday in the first place. It wasn't big or sophisticated, but made her very happy. Would her mother ever understand something like that if she tried to tell her? Her mind said no, but her heart wanted so much to believe she would…

“I'm going to get the pancakes.” Lena decided, getting up. Emily didn't lose the opportunity to slap her bum, of course. “ Ouch-- Em!”

Emily winked. 

“And make my tea not outrageously strong like yours, chérie.” Amélie decided to tease, because why not? The banter with Lena was so much fun. 

“Just because it was your birthday.” She grunted, giving her a look, and got out of the room.

With Lena's spot empty, Amélie noticed a sketchbook laying there with a pencil case and some pencils. Lena had been drawing a lady sleeping in a low bed full of cushions, and by her side was another woman, sitting down and looking at something outside the page, deep in thought. The two were absurdly similar to her and Emily, and Amélie had to give Lena some praise for being that good at drawing. It was beautiful, even unfinished.

“So that's what you two were talking about.” Her fingers ghosted the paper.

“Hm? Oh, yeah - Lena's characters, who are basically us, except she had the most accurate insight ever and decided to make you an ancient goddess.” She chuckled. 

“And you the loyal servant who had been there for her while she slumbered.” Amélie nodded, and it was beautiful how quick Emily blushed at that simple mention. “But what did she make herself?”

“An adventurer who travels the world, finds the goddess and wakes her.”

“A common human?”

“Yes.”

“She really has a problem realizing she's nothing short of amazing.” Amélie shook her head and got up.

“Noooo, don't leave me alone in this big, cold bed, what will I do?!”

Amélie smirked. “I’m just going to the bathroom, chérie. And don't worry - when I decide to go back to this bed for real, you will not be able to get out from it.”

It was after breakfast, as none of them wanted to dismiss Lena's lovely efforts, but Amélie did make good on her word. Lena was more than happy to join them once they started, and they had to gag their beautiful muse to prevent anyone in the building from thinking she was being murdered, such were her moans and screams. 

When they finished, she really felt like lifting a hand was too much of an effort, and god, she was feeling  _ good _ . It was like she was floating - and this time she checked to see if she was still there, and noticed that yes, there was still a body, but it was softly fading from the physical realm.

“You two have to stop phasing me out, girls…” She purred and disappeared, leaving her girls to fall back on her space.

“You're welcome!” Lena shouted into the ether, giggling, and Amélie both facepalmed and laughed at such a joyful display.

“Rest, my dear, then come back to us.” Amélie smiled softly and turned to Lena. “But you, _ petit lapin _ , I did enjoy seeing how you shifted to a relentless teaser when you had our Emily in your fingers. “ ‘ _ I love hearing you saying my name, love. Twitching, turning and losing control as I crook my finger just like this...”  _ Amélie exaggerated Lena's accent, but also made a very obscene scene of rolling her eyes and moaning for her.

Lena immediately went wide-eyed, red up to the ears, but still opened a silly grin. “You want some of my…” She shook her shoulders and winked. “British magic?”

Amélie scoffed and groaned, turning to the other side of the bed. Lena started kissing her nape and laughing, not doing any of them properly,  until Amélie herself turned and silenced her with a kiss.

It didn't take long for them to end on top of each other. They could have a little fun by themselves.  
  


\--  
  


The door slid open with a smooth sound, and Ana stopped moving immediately. Since she woke up, not long before, she had been trying to untie her hands from that chair, and it wasn't going terribly well. Now that someone was coming, she might have lost the timing completely… But she still had some tricks she could use. Old soldiers like her always did.

Her eyes scanned the small room for any point of advantage when Sombra came in, looking as smug as always. Untraceable. Ana was good at hiding her emotions but god, she really wanted to take that little smile out of her face. If she only could find out what she was hiding...

“Look what a illustrious guest we have here this time.” Sombra leaned on the wall, close to Ana but not enough that she could try anything. “Did you really think you'd catch me? Oh  _ viejita _ , you should have your head checked; you're going senile.”

Ana merely gave her a look. “Say what you want already.”

“Aw, you're no fun.” Sombra shook her head. “I'm here to show you some things, so you'll stop this pointless chase, you see.  It's getting old.”

She waved a hand before Ana, a motion similar to stringing a harp, and a series of floating holographic screens appeared before her. Ana had never seen her doing such a thing before, but wasn't really surprised she had some magic control. Sombra never fooled her in that regard.

Shaking that thought and focusing on the screens, they seemed to contain documents of some sort. Ana took a last  glance at Sombra before finally reading the text nearest to her face. 

it was a report on her, turns out.  
  


_ Entry #790  _

_ Ana Amari _

_ Age: inconclusive; certainly way more than she appears to have. _

_ Part of a dying order of ancient protectors from Egypt. Has a ritualistic (and pretty cool) tattoo under her left eye symbolizing the Eye of the Moon and her spiritual sight. Must be cautious with magic around her. _

_ Ex-military with ties on the RAF and the Army; her daughter is currently a police officer (refer to entry #794) and has inherited the sight, but currently poses no threat as she doesn't seem to have developed it to its full potential. _

 

That was only the beginning; Sombra made subtle finger motions to scroll the thing down as she noticed Ana was getting to the bottom of it, and the report went on to cover her military life, complete with details and classified documents; Her immigration to the United Kingdom and her years of work there; A copy of the documents referring to the ownership of some buildings, including the one she currently lived in; and the only incomplete topic, the order she was a part of and their practices as protectors. Sombra did muse and guess some part of it very accurately, though, and that had Ana very alarmed in her carefully crafted blank expression.

The only thing that cracked her veiled calm was a specific part on the report, filled under the  _ personal life  _ category.  It was no secret that Ana's marriage had been a trainwreck and it was her fault, she admitted that. Sam was too good a guy to be dragged around because of her work and temper, he deserved better and found it, away from her. Sombra deemed him uninteresting enough that she didn't even make a separate report on him, listing all the info she had in a topic in the report. Their daughter, however, seemed to pique her interest way more, and that was what worried Ana.

“The report on Fareeha.” Ana stared at Sombra.

“Did I hear a ‘ _ please Sombra’ _ ?” She replied.

Ana inhaled and let the air go heavily. “Please, Sombra.”

“Of course,  _ abuelita. _ ” A twitch of her wrist and a different screen took the place where the first was.

Entry #794 was about Fareeha Amari, and it had all sorts of informations on her. Ana had a sense that if it was registered in a computer at some point, Sombra got it - she even had her High-school grades at disposal.

In the written text, however, Sombra didn't seem to think Fareeha was much of a threat, even if she was a cop and an apprentice protector. Ana felt relieved in one hand and unnerved on the other; her daughter was really good at the things she did and deserved more recognition, even if by a shady type like that woman.

“Are you finished yet? I want to show you the real interesting one.” Sombra had the tone of a bored kid who wants to go play, but her eyes didn't lose their sharp edge for a second.

Ana thought of being her usual snarky self, but the truth was that she also wanted to know what that interesting file was. “Yes.”

Soon enough, a new screen was in front of her.

 

_ Entry #659 _

_ Lena Oxton _

_ Age: 23 _

_ Ex-pilot in the RAF, sustained brain damage after getting beaten to near death by an anti-omnic thug, and can't fly anymore. Fell into depression and self-destructive behaviors, and that was how we met: she was drunk and graffiting the side of our headquarters. _  
  


Embedded on the file was a photo of said graffiti: It started on the second level of the building with a man jumping and falling down with arms arched back, then the same man transformed in a bird as it went down, a beautiful, colorful bird, and then finally the man crashed on the floor, featherless, human, splattering blood everywhere.  
  


_ I like her style, though the metaphor here was clearly personal. She could go far with some pointers… And knowing where to paint her works, for a start. _

 

This report, unlike the others, had a lot of comments on it. Some were about things Sombra personally noticed about Lena, some about the info she unearthed (she seemed genuinely sorry in the part about her family and how she ran away at an young age, for example), and it was clear she was fond of Lena. Ana was surprised by how much, in fact; she saw reminders to take her to a doctor, to stop her from getting alcohol, to get her art supplies...

Ana was about to comment on it when something else caught her eye in the text. 

 

_ The fact that Lena has had a peculiar number of accidents throughout her life always picked my interest. After one too many, I went investigating: there's something trying to kill her from the other side, and all the data suggests it's been trying for the longest time. It's not an ordinary threat, a vengeful spirit from an anterior life,a general chaos bringer, a demon or anything of the sort. It's not a god either, their energy is strong and clear to discern. No, whatever it is, it attempts to kill her and leaves no trace - and at the same time, she always seems to avoid death by a maddening tiny bit. Whatever this little dance of them is about, I'll find out, and keep an eye on Lena in the meantime. _

 

The report went on with Sombra speculating on the nature of the threat and adding potential clues to her investigation. It was weird to read, as it was less fact and more musing on her part. At first, but she made progress over time: far before Ana or Winston suspected, she learnt of Lena's time warping abilities and that it was triggered by an imbalance in her emotional response. Her research was going well, but then Ana happened. She took Lena under her wing and out of Sombra's sight, and it became very difficult to observe the subtler indicators of the ability, which were most of them. At least Lena's life improved and Ana was a decent protector, so Sombra only got really angry at it once or twice. Of course, she also took a lot of measures behind Ana’s back to cloak Lena from spiritual forces, but they only worked to an extent, and sometimes she took too long to renew the spells or perform maintenance in the gadgets, always resulting in some minor injuries or exquisite happenings in Lena’s life.

Sombra kept working by herself, researching so when she had Lena around again she’d have the means to get the maximum amount of data possible out of her peculiarity. She set up devices, rigged them to a remote server (the schematics were attached to the file), and waited for an opportunity.

One day it came: Lena had a fight with Amélie and ran away in search of Sombra. It was pretty easy to take her to a chosen place: the Golden Wreath Mall was cursed, and would certainly trigger something in Lena, hopefully drawing in whatever was after her. If they were lucky everything would go smoothly, the girl wouldn’t even know anything was up. Sombra just happened to have a little business to take care of first.at the place before she set the equipment down, and of course, it was enough for disaster to take place.  
  


_ Fucking Lena got in a car accident at the Golden Wreath Mall.  _ ¡ Chica estupida! _ I blinked one fucking second and she trapped herself into running a race, knowing full well her brain would malfunction. How much her desire to punish herself still persists after all this time?! Throwing herself at such a thing recklessly… I want to strangle her,  _ especially _ if she fucking dies because of that.  _

_ All of this time to come up with something to scan the finer readings and she fucked everything up like that! _ _  
_

_ I felt it. Whatever it was, it came like lightning tearing the world apart and hit her. It was alive, and I couldn’t fucking say what it was. It didn’t feel like anything I know, and I know a lot of things. _

_ Ana is with Lena right now. I felt her muse friend faintly after they left for the hospital, so I suppose she’s with them too.  _

_ I turned the scanner devices on after all this shit happened, and they gave me a strong spacetime fluctuation at the road, peaking at the place the ominous lightning hit Lena. It matches her energy, and no one else’s. It infuriates me that someone - now I’m certain it’s at least conscious - can be more elusive than me, right under my nose! _

_ Maybe I’ll go back and make a different scanner, stronger. I have to talk to  _ la maga.  _ It doesn’t hurt to get a little creative. _  
  


Ana worried at her lip without noticing while she read the report. Sombra was trying to help. All that time, and Sombra was just trying to help. 

“You got to the nice part, huh?” The smile was all over Sombra’s voice, and Ana closed her eyes.. That realization made her grumpy, because she’d been completely wrong in her pursuit. She didn’t put past Sombra to show her fake documents to get in her favor, though...

“Why did you show me this?” She asked, a bit exasperated.

“I told you; you chasing me was becoming old, I want new games to play… Besides, you’re finally catching up on this thing, and I figured showing you this would make you  _ so _ uncomfortable it would be funny,  _ viejita _ .” She winked, but Ana was definitely avoiding her gaze. “I also want to ask you something. A little thing, really.”

There it was, her real intention. Ana raised her head and stared at her, trying once more to find her energy trace, in vain. “What?”

Sombra looked at her nails, suddenly very interested in them, and took her moment to answer. “There’s just one more file you should see, Ana.”

A flick or her hand and another screen took the place of the one Ana had been reading.  
  


_ Entry #929 _

_ The Terpsichore named Emily _  
  


Ana wasn't really surprised Sombra had a file on Emily, but if she was showing it to Ana, it meant there were relevant things she wasn't telling them. Her intentions with Lena and Amélie were sincere, so what could be there?  

That promised to be a very interesting read...

 

\--  
  


Knocks on the door.

“I’m coming!” Lena shouted on her way to taking the plates to the kitchen sink.

It was 5pm and she and Amélie had just finished lunch. It was not really a problem, but it felt weird to Amélie, like they should be preparing for dinner instead. Lena told her that was the fun of it - you only had one proper meal and then could stuff yourself with all sorts of junk food later, because you wouldn’t be hungry enough to eat a whole meal.

She failed to mention that with her gremlin appetite, she would eat a meal worth of junk food anyway.

Amélie was finishing cleaning the table when Lena came back and opened the door, quite distracted by the rear of her new lover. When she actually turned her attention to the task, she was face to face with Jeanne Guillard.

“Holy-- h-hi Mrs. Guillard!” Lena suppressed a gasp, but her eyes and the nervous fiddling with her fingers couldn't deny her surprise.

“Hello… Lena, right?” Jeanne was mildly curious, her eyes scanning the room behind Lena. “May I come in?”

“Silly me, sure!” She giggled nervously and scratched her nape, opening space for her to enter. Good thing they took the mattress to her room some time before! “Don't mind the mess, we just finished eating.”

Jeanne didn't answer, only entered with her clicky high heels and stood in the middle of the place. That made Lena even more nervous - first she judged her, now she'd judge her house too?!

“Uh… I take it you're here for Amélie, right?”

“Yes, I need to talk to my daughter, and with you too. If Emily is around, her presence would be appreciated as well.”

“She was here just a moment ago… Why don't you take a seat, mrs. Guillard?” She went to the kitchen to look, then to the corridor leading to her room and the bathroom. “Hey Amé! Your mother is here!”

Amélie came out of the bedroom almost immediately, her loose and comfortable clothes changed to something more presentable. “Hello, mother.” She greeted, her whole body language courteous and proper, exactly as it would be at a party, with a guest she didn’t know. “I hope this apartment was very hard to find.”

Jeanne glared at her in a first moment, but let it soften right after. She didn’t sit, as suggested before, and looked deeply uncomfortable. Lena noticed that and looked from her to Amélie, worried, but none of them were paying attention.

“Yeeeeah… I’m going to make us some tea--” She started.

“I’m here to apologize.” Jeanne said in a very assertive, clear, rushed voice.

No one was expecting that. Lena’s jaw dropped and Amélie’s eyes widened.for a moment, then tightened, and she took a step towards her mother. Before she could say anything, though, Lena’s stereo bursted into playing a song:  
  


_ So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye _

_ So you think you can love me and leave me to die _

_ Oh baby can't do this to me baby _

_ Just gotta get out just gotta get right outta here _

 

“What in the name of God is going on?!” Jeanne asked, looking around, taken completely off-guard.

Lena looked exactly like her, but she rushed to turn off the stereo. “Uh, sorry! My stereo, it… It does that sometimes…”

_ What the fuck, _ Lena was thinking while she fiddled with the button, unable to turn it off, then she noticed the thing wasn’t even plugged on. The memory of a similar scene sme months before came to mind and she finally understood what was going on. “Em, you asshole.” She whispered to herself, chuckling.

The song changed suddenly.  
  


_ 'Cause I got so down I held the world for ransom _

_ Lonely, bored and bad thank God I'm handsome _

_ I'm as awful as they come oh what a pity _

_ So I thank the lord above that I am pretty, so pretty _  
  


Lena had to really hold the laughter as the music died down abruptly. On the other side of the room, the tension was lost, but Amélie wouldn’t give up on what she was going to say before.

“You don’t apologize. What do you really want, mother?”

Jeanne sighed and finally moved to the couch, gesturing for Amélie to sit with her. “This was a long night of thinking for me, Amélie. You were mad and gone, Angela and your father left to have drinks, of all things, and I stood alone in that big house with little, sweet Poulain.”

“Poor you.” Amélie replied, dryly.

_ “ _ Your father’s parting words to me were _ ‘’You’ve wrecked everything, Jeanne. Congratulations.’  _ and it bothered me greatly, because they were true. I spent most of the year without seeing you, Amélie, and in one day I managed to hurt you so much. Forgive me.”

Amélie bit the side of her lip and let out a heavy, almost pained sigh. Lena could see her taking a quick glance at her bad foot, then fixing her gaze to the floor. “You say that like you hadn’t ever hurt me before that.” She said, quietly.

Jeanne closed her eyes for a moment. Silence fell. Lena sat gingerly by Amélie, grabbing her arm and snuggling to her side. She hoped that conveyed the message she wanted to pass well:  _ It’s okay, love. I’m here with you. _

“...There are things I cannot comprehend yet, but I know that you are happier here.” Jeanne started. “You're my daughter, Amélie, and I want what's best for you, but if you had to come all the way here to feel alive again, with these women by your side, Angela close, with the Royal Ballet… It hurts to say, but it means I am wrong, and my notion of what's best for you does not align with your truth.”  

Amélie raised her head and locked eyes with Jeanne, mouth slightly ajar. “It-- It took you long enough.”

One didn't have to be a muse to know mother and daughter were confused and hurt, not only by that last fight but also by the injuries of a hundred others that didn't heal properly. Lena knew the hesitant body language, the frustrated, fairly desolate expressions - they reminded her of her mother and herself… And it hurt.   
“Mrs. Guillard, if I may.” She asked gingerly. Both women fixed their gazes on her. “I understand your concern about me and Emily. You don’t know us more than the fact we happened to save Amélie from jumping off a bridge, and I’m this scruffy tomboy without a penny to my name. I’m not exactly the person mothers dream for their girls.” She chuckled.

Amélie opened her mouth to protest, but Lena put a finger over her lips.

“Still, we love her a lot. I don’t have your good manners, I’m not pretty or proper or hella smart, but I’m willing to try and learn. I want her to be as happy as she can, just like you. If you try to see past the fact I’m not a prestigious mustached gentleman like Gérard was, maybe you’ll like me, who knows? People say I’m pretty charming.” She opened her silly, adorable grin.

“ _ Chérie,  _ she doesn’t have to approve of--”   
“No Amélie, she’s right.” Jeanne shook her head. “I should be better than that. At least, I should  _ try.” _

Jeanne Guillard wasn’t one to apologize lightly. She greatly valued pride and reputation, sometimes persisting in a mistake to honor her word, so If she was admitting she did wrong, she meant it, and that notion confused Amélie. Why was she doing it? She never cared that much. She was always dedicated to perfecting Amélie’s skills, honing her body and mind to be the best of dancers and a worthy descendant of the Guillards. They had a name to uphold, after all, and what they wanted came second. It had always been like that.

_ Why was she doing it?! _

“What I wanted never bothered you before.” Amélie stared at her mother. “What’s changed now?”

“I almost lost you, Amélie. That’s what happened.”

For just a moment the mask cracked: before them sat a vulnerable woman, anxious and tired, not at all like the assertive head of the Guillards. The weight of such a sight smashed against  Amélie’s chest like a rampaging bull. That was her mother, impenetrable, strict, always right. Her carefully built image dissolved as silent tears fell.

That was Jeanne Guillard, the woman Amélie both admired and feared in equal measures, yearning for comfort and love from her daughter. A woman of flesh and bone, like everybody else.

 

Just a human being.

 

Amélie didn’t think twice to bring her in for an embrace, and before long, both of them were crying and apologizing for virtually everything. They loved and missed each other greatly, but the walls they built along the way had to crumble before they could express it properly.   
It wasn’t difficult for Lena to slip away to her bedroom and  give them some privacy. She was happy they were finally figuring things out, it didn’t matter if it would end up with Jeanne more receptive of her and Emily or not.

She was happy for Amélie, but there was also a sadness creeping in the corners of her heart. At least Amélie and Jeanne could work out their differences and get on good terms again. How long it was that Lena had last seen her mother…?

 

\--


	31. Chapter 31

The days flew by in the blink of an eye. Amélie was finally able to tell her parents what bothered her the most in their behaviors, and while it was a difficult subject, they seemed to take into consideration and start with baby steps towards dealing with their issues. Lena was invited to dine with them the whole week, and by the end of it, Jeanne was even chuckling at her silly jokes. Both Amélie and Angela had a lot of fun watching the super rich Guillards getting completely shocked by the tales of King’s Row and its populace. Some highlights of it were Edgar asking why didn’t one of Lena’s friend buy a car instead of taking the overcrowded tube everyday, and how horrified the couple was when Lena told them minimum wage wasn’t enough to afford basic needs, like rent, food, bills and transportation for a month. _“That’s inhuman!”_ Edgar scoffed at the time, and Lena snickered. _“I think that’s the plan, love.”_

By the end of the week, they were asking Amélie to buy Lena a new flat, which was cute, but also made her almost have a heart attack because it was too much money and she’d never be able to repay something like that, despite their claims it would be a gift and wouldn’t even affect their bank account.

At some point in the week, Jeanne went to Amélie and told her, in a reserved tone, that she knew now why she was enraptured by Lena. She didn’t say what it was, but it was implicit - the woman was sunshine all over, she could brighten the darkest of days by arriving.

Amélie sighed in that adorable, ridiculous way lovers do without noticing, and looked at Edgar, Angela and Lena talking about some unimportant thing with excited expressions on the couch. “ _She’s amazing. I just which you could see more of Emily too.”_

The official excuse was that Emily was out of the city for a job, she sometimes performed in fairs or festivals with other dancers to promote the school she worked for. A school both Amélie and Lena were pretty vague on describing, leaving Jeanne with a growing suspicion that she was either unemployed, dealing with something illegal, or maybe both.

She gathered the courage to ask in a rainy afternoon when both her and Amélie were sitting on the covered part of the backyard, drinking tea and petting Poulain.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something for some days now.”

Amélie’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked it by taking a sip of her tea and complaining it was still too hot. “Ugh. I think I burnt my tongue… Anyway, what it is?”

Jeanne tilted her head slightly. “You look tense.”

_Damn observant, mother!_ “I’m not.”

“Very well. Is Emily a stripper?”

Good thing Amélie wasn’t drinking anything at the moment, or she would’ve choked.

“ _Mother!_ ”

“What? You never tell or show me what she dances. You are obscure when talking about her workplace. What did you expect me to think?!”

In her flustering,  Amélie was sure she could hear the echo of laughter far away. “Not this, for sure!”

Jeanne put a hand to her chest. “I don’t mean-- I promise I won’t bother her about it!”

“No mom, she really isn’t a stripper!” Amélie scoffed, then let out a nervous laughter and put a lock of her behind her ear. “She just… I can’t really categorize, she does a lot of things, but I could say she’s maybe a private teacher? She teaches ballroom dance to a grandma full of grandchildren, electro swing to a newly wed couple and modern to a boy who’s studying for the entrance test of a famous academy, to name a few.”

Jeanne gave her a doubtful look, but Amélie stood tall on her words. All of it was true, after all - she just didn’t mention those people were located in Romania, Ireland and Ecuador, respectively. And that Emily could teleport all around because she wasn’t a physical being, of course.

“You said she works for a school.” Jeanne pointed out.

“And she does, it offers the tutorship service as well. It’s a pretty nice place.”

“Amélie.”

“Mother, _no._ Can’t you just believe me? I’ll have her take on a tour when she’s back if you want it.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Jeanne smiled faintly. “I’m curious.”

_Oh great, Amélie, you not only backed yourself against a wall, but also put Emily into the mess. Congratulations! Although, the way she is, she’ll even enjoy making this up…_

\--

 

Winston and Lena had a full week. Lena started wearing that cool measuring pendant Winston made her, going everywhere with it, from the sparse graffiti jobs to running errands, meeting the Guillards and sleeping. She and Winston met on the weekend to analyze data, and  of course he baked her cookies and stashed some ice cream, because they tended to be extremely silly and happy together.

“So what did you get, Big Guy?” Lena jumped from her chair to Winston's side, managing to keep the mountain of ice cream in her bowl intact.. “Anything interesting?”

“Actually yes.” He mumbled. “Look at this graph here. It's your vitals--”

“You're checking my vitals?!” Her jaw dropped. “Cool!”

“Of course I'm--” Winston straightened the glasses on the bridge of his nose “well, there's this graph, and then this one” He pointed to a second one, weirdly irregular comparing to the first. “Which’s about the chronal energy fluctuations.”

“The one with the smooth waves?”

He nodded. “Do you know what this implies?”

She raised an eyebrow. “No, duh, you're the scientist!”

“It implies that your vitality is somehow tied to maintaining this chronal field around you contained. As an example, if we forward to Thursday, 10pm… Your heart rate spiked, see? Then the fluctuations graphic turned into a negative mess, which would suggest slowing time. Do you remember what you were doing then, Lena??

“Thursday…” She furrowed her brow, focusing, and then her eyes widened and she immediately blushed. She _did_ remember what she was doing at that date and time… “I, uh… I was with Amélie.”

“Sure, but what were you doing? It’s important, we have to pinpoint--”

“W-we were in bed, Big Guy. She was between my thighs.”

If gorillas could blush, Winston would certainly be the most flustered of them all.

“Oh.”

“You asked!” She crossed her arms and looked away, embarrassed. “Why did you have to mention this exact time, anyway?”

“Because it was the one I remembered the most!” He raised his hands defensively. “But there’s some other interesting phenomenon. Here.” He slid the bar some times and stopped at some points where the fluctuations graph drew large oscillating curves. “This always happens at times that I imagine you sleep.”

“Uh… Yeah, definitely sleeping at this gap.”

“Great! So. A large oscillation while your sleeping, but your vitals are completely fine. Do you have any idea why that might be or something to add?”

“I don’t know, I’m sleeping.” She shrugged. “I could ask the girls if I ever did something weird, but I don’t think so? I mean, if having nightmares and anxious dreams are to consider then sure, but I’ve had that my whole life.”

He frowned. “Anything unusual in your dreams?”

“Nope, just running away from monsters and assassins and exploding buildings, the usual stuff.”

“That’s interesting…”

Winston kept mumbling, mostly to himself, and Lena spaced out. Her phone buzzed and she went to check it, finding some messages from Hana’s father, and that took her out of the haze. Did anything happen? He had her number, sure, but he never contacted her…

 

**Jun-Ho Song**

_Hi Lena, this is Hana’s father_

_How have you been?_

_3:44pm_

 

_I’ve been meaning to ask you something_

_for some time, but I didn’t know how_

_Well, you know Hana and Brigitte are_

_like best friends, right? But I’ve noticed_

_the way they look at each other._

_3:46pm_

 

_What I’m trying to say is_

_I know they like each other, but I’m afraid_

_Hana’s holding back because of us. She’s scared._

_3:47pm_

 

_I need your help telling her it’s alright, her_

_mother and I don’t mind a bit if she likes girls_

_or boys or no one, we just want to make sure_

_she’s dating someone nice, and Brigitte is a_

_delightful girl, so there would be no problem at all_

_3:49pm_

 

_But I’m clumsy with words and I don’t know_

_How to tell her that without making it awkward_

_Please help me!_

_3:50pm_

 

Lena was not prepared for something like that, but it certainly made her smile. That was awesome! Hana’s parents were so mindful of her - also very cute - it warmed her heart. She almost poked Winston to show him the messages, but he was so invested into the research she decided against it. There would plenty of time for that afterwards.

_Of course I’ll help, mr. Song!_

_3:52pm_

 

_Damn, I’m excited - there’s a lot of things_

_you could do. You could take her somewhere_

_nice, maybe get some ice cream, and you tell_

_her you think she and Brig are cute together_

_3.53pm_

 

_Or you could put on some show with two girlfriends on_

_for you to watch, and you can comment on how you_

_Think they’re nice and homophobic people could_

_screw themselves_

_3:55pm_

 

_Or you could come home saying you met the cutest_

_couple of lesbians on the street and one of them reminded_

_you of Hana! Then you ask about her and Brigitte, if it’ll_

_ever happen ;D_

_3:59pm_

 

_Those all sound like good ideas_

_4:03pm_

 

_I’ll try, thank you Lena!_

_4:04pm_

 

_No problem_

_Good luck!_

_keep me informed!_

_4:05pm_

Lena chuckled to herself. It was amazing how mr.Song was trying to be a good father and help his daughter any way he could, even struggling. She knew Hana was dating Brigitte for a while now, but she would leave it to her to tell her father or not. She probably would, though. Lena knew how much it weighted Hana down to hide it, because she loved her parents but also feared they wouldn’t accept it, at least not without causing a great commotion and a lot of pain. When she learnt they reach out to Lena for help, she’d be ecstatic by how much they cared. How much they loved her… That was how a family was supposed to be like: full of love.

 

That was how a family was supposed to be like…

 

Lena sighed, her smile a bit sadder.

 

“You know Winston” She started, still looking at the screen. “Amélie and her mom are finally coming to terms. She even told her about the job in the Royal Ballet…”

“That is pretty good. You said she’s also been warming up to you, right?”

“Yes, she’s trying hard to, at least. She’s not all bad, just… Rich and spoiled, I guess.” She shrugged. “Hana’s father just messaged me to help him with telling Hana it’s okay if she wants to date Brigitte.”

“She’ll be so happy to hear that!”

“She will! Just wait for the voice messages… A pity I won’t be there to see it.”

Winston chuckled and nodded, then focused back on his work. Lena fidgeted with her hair. There was something unpleasant and cold in her stomach. She knew what she wanted to say, but the words were too difficult; If she said it, a lot of suppressed and buried stuff would come with them. Still…

“I miss mom.” It was an ashamed whisper more than anything else. Tired, as well.

Winston immediately stopped and turned to face her. “Lena…”

“N-no, yes, I know, it’s silly! This bridge was burnt a long time ago!” She gesticulated wildly, visibly bothered. “I just-- Damn. They all have parents who love them, you know? Even if they can be assholes, they _try_ , they-- Oh forget it. Stupid me. Stupid, stupid Lena.”

“ _Lena._ ” He put one hand on each of her shoulders and pressed gently, so she’d stop and look at him. “It’s not stupid at all. We all want love.”

She said nothing, but the tears were running freely as she looked down, ashamed.

He got up and hugged her, knocking some books over in the process.  “Would you meet her if you could?”

“She wouldn’t meet me… Father wouldn’t let her.”

“But if she would, somehow?”

Lena took a moment to consider it as she made herself comfortable on the embrace. So many years without seeing each other, and all the complications of her being a lesbian, of running away… The fear in her mother's eyes every time her husband entered the room and Lena was being herself, which, of course, was improper…

“I guess so. If only to convince myself it’s not worth it anymore.”

Winston held her tighter. “We... Still talk, you know? She asks a lot about you.”

Lena raised her head like a bolt and cringed - it was too fast too soon, the movement gave her a terrible twinge in the head. She took a moment to recover from it, and eventually looked at Winston with a mix of surprise, betrayal and confusion in her eyes. “You talk to my mother and you didn’t tell me…?” She didn’t even sound angry, just sad.

“You were always so hurt by the ghosts of them, I wasn’t sure you’d like to know that. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you more, Lena.”

“But why did you do it, then?”

“Because she kept me informed on your father’s movements after you ran away.” He sighed. “He wanted to find you and throw you into one of those reformatories. She called and told me she couldn’t let him hurt you further... She was done with it.”

“Oh bloody hell _._ ” Lena got out of his embrace slowly, messing with her hair. “When I think that asshole can't be any worse…”

“Sorry about that.” Winston looked terribly guilty. “I, uh, shouldn't have brought this up. It was dumb of me.”

Lena shook her head, looking away without really focusing. Her mind was a typhoon of feelings at the moment. “No, it's… Okay, I guess.”

There were just so many things she'd fantasized about saying to her mother if they ever met again: she'd scream at her that she was doing better now than ever; that she'd found a new, better family who accepted her by who she was; that she had no right to let her, a child, _her child_ , suffer because of a terrible father. There was just so much screaming in her fantasy, as if the sound would be able to inflict the same kind of pain she let Lena face, so maybe she could understand once and for all what it was like. Lena never forgave her in these scenarios. She deserved all that. _She_ _deserved it._

Yet, with the chance to meet her at hand, she didn't feel like doing any of that. It just hurt her a lot…

“Call her.” She said, quietly. “See if she can come next weekend.”

Winston looked at her, so sad and small there, and opened his arms. She let herself be caught in his embrace once more.

“Are you sure?” He murmured. She just nodded. “Okay. We'll be there with you the whole time. Me, and if you want, Emily and Amélie, even Ana. I bet she would protect you like a lioness with her cubs.”

Lena giggled a bit. Ana really would protect her like a feline. In a lot of ways, she was more of a mother to her than her actual mother had ever been. It was weird and awesome, actually, how things turned out for her - her biological family was shit, but she found a new one: a beautiful, weird, imperfect family, full of love and understanding, one that made her very happy.

“Thank you for looking out for me, Big Guy. You're like the brother I always wanted.”

“If you always wanted a clumsy gorilla as a brother, then sure.” He chuckled. “I can say the same, little sister.”

There they stood, hugging each other. None of them knew what the future reserved them, but they'd be together, so it'd be alright. That was what family was all about.

 

\--

Amélie was tense. It was sunday night, and only a handful of hours until she'd have to go to the Royal Ballet School in Covent Garden to start being trained to work. A lot of things passed through her mind: what if she didn't live up to their expectations? What if they discovered she wasn't really apt to provide support to the staff in any way? What if people hated her?

She wanted so much to hide in her girlfriend's embraces, but none of them were there at the moment. Emily didn't reappear since the time they phased her out, and Lena was at Winston's house so he could monitor something about her sleep. They'd know how to help her relax, for sure. Those two dorks…

Unable to sleep properly, Amélie went for a glass of water in the kitchen. She heard voices, so she approached with caution, and a peek through the half open door showed her Angela and Jeanne talking, her cousin still wearing the doctor gown. Apparently she had just gotten home, and was taking dinner out of the microwave.

“That’s really unfortunate, Angela. I’m sorry.” Jeanne said, quietly.

Angela sighed. “The heart attack was too sudden, we did all we could, but… Well, Mr. Johnson was a relatively old man. He lived a good life.”

“You should get a good night’s sleep, I’ll call the clinic and tell them you’ll arrive late.”

“Nonsense, I can do my usual shift. Besides, I misplaced an important file on my clinical research on all this rushing around, I have to find it.” She massaged her temple, looking absolutely tired.

Amélie judged it was safe to make an appearance and entered the room, her satin robe fluttering slightly as she walked. “You’ll get sick at this rate, Angela. It’s okay, they’ll understand.”

“So you’re awake as well.” Angela frowned. “Is this a late night meeting I was not aware of?”

“The only late night meetings I’d wish to have aren’t with you both, I assure you.” Amélie purred, a smug expression on her face. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Are you anxious about tomorrow?” Jeanne asked.

The instinct to deny it was there, whispering rushedly in her ear that she’d be punished if she confirmed it, she’d be judged as weak and childish. Amélie tried to ignore it as best as she could. “Yes. I don’t know exactly what they’ll demand of me, or how things operate in this school. I’m very anxious.”

Jeanne nodded and got up. “Have a seat, I’ll make you some calming tea.”

“Thank you mother, but there’s no need…”

“Yes, there is, for both of you.” She gave them a look.

Amélie sat in silence and exchanged a look with Angela. _Jeanne_ was making tea without complaining about it? She must’ve been sleepy.

“You’re Amélie Guillard, _chérie_.” Jeanne kept talking as she handled the kettle and looked for the tea blend. “Marie called for you by name. They know how much of a star you are. They’ll provide you with any of the means needed for you to fit in, and you’re going to ace it. How do I know that? I know Marie. She wouldn’t offer this lightly.” She had a bit of smile on the corner of her mouth that none of them could see, but bled into her words.

“You two seem to be good friends.” Angela raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, she’s been with the Paris Opera Ballet for some time. Such a lovely woman. We used to enjoy some conversation and wine in the hidden corners of the backstage.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Conversation and wine? Hidden corners? Were you two lovers?”

“No, nothing of the sort.” Jeanne shook her head. “But… We weren't saints, if that's what you want to know.”

If Lena was there, she would've gasped and shouted in an overly impressed voice that “ _bloody hell, your mom shagged your future boss!”._

Amélie very much wanted to do the same.

“You'll do fine, Amélie.” Jeanne finally turned to face her. “I know it.”

The three of them kept talking, and it helped appease Amélie's anxiety a bit. The tea really helped, but she still rolled around on the bed for a while before falling asleep.

Next day, she woke up to gentle caresses on the back of her head and voices softly calling her name. A smile. Her girls were there, finally. She opened her eyes and stretched, much like a cat, and grabbed Emily’s hand and then forearm to bring her closer.

“Good morning, darling.” Emily giggled.

Amélie kissed her hand. “Where have you been?”

“Mainly recovering from being brutally, deliciously ruined by you two.” She chuckled. “Do you know the amount of input I got from that? It was like using lightning energy to power a blender  - I fried. _God, I fried._ ” She bit the corner of her lip and gave Amélie a sultry look, so it was pretty safe to guess she was up for doing it again right away.

“Anyway” Even in the low light, it was easy to see Lena was blushing at the comment. “we came to take you to work!”

Work…? Oh yes, that! Amélie sat down in one quick motion and picked up her phone - it was ten minutes before the time she set the alarm for. “Oh, I… I’m very glad you’re here. Just… Give me some minutes to get ready?”

“Of course!” Lena nodded eagerly. “We’ll be downstairs!”

 

\--

Roughly an hour later, everybody in the house except for Angela (who did good on her word and went to work before they had the chance to even see her) was crammed inside a cab and heading to Covent Garden.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive in front of the beautiful neoclassical building of the Royal Opera Ballet and its glass-made annex. Amélie’s stomach was tied in several knots at the time, anxiety peaking behind her calm façade as they headed to the building beside the Opera, where the school was based. No turning back now - either she made them all proud or failed spectacularly.

“It’s gonna be okay, love!” Lena squeezed her hand and offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re the best, it’ll be a breeze!”

“Think of how far you’ve come.” Emily added. “You’re nothing short of a queen, make sure everybody knows that.”

They ascended the steps slowly.

“ _Chérie,_ I _…_ ”

“Oh there you are!” A familiar voice came from inside, right before they reached the double doors. Marie Lewis approached them with her regal walk and pixie cut, bringing a blonde woman a bit taller than Lena on her heels. When they saw her, Amélie, Jeanne, Edgar and Emily all looked at each other for a moment, a burst of excitement taking place as they recognized the lead dancer of the company. “Arriving early, I see.”

Lena merely got the fact that they were before someone important, but nothing else.

“I wanted to make sure I’d get here on time. I’m excited.” Amélie smiled faintly, trying the best she could to hide the anxiety.

“I can see that.” Marie smiled. “And you brought your parents! Hello Jeanne, Edgar, it’s been too long! Also, these beautiful ladies would be…?”

“My girlfriends, Lena and Emily.”

Marie’s eyes widened for a moment, but the surprise soon turned to amusement and she nodded. “You do have good taste, dear. Hello you two. Welcome to the Royal Opera School.”

A fair amount of time was spent with introductions (Lena finally learnt who the blonde woman was, aside from pretty) and chit-chatting, mostly between Jeanne, Edgar and Marie, until the director stopped and asked if Amélie was ready to go. Her voice was soft, her eyes knowing - she definitely could see the nervousness there. Amélie shared a look with all the others there, saw their encouraging expressions, and then nodded.

There was a collective sense of pride and bittersweetness as the group watched her going further in the building with Marie and the lead ballerina. Their girl, their exuberant woman, she was putting her life back on track, making connections, finding joy, living. That was quite the feat.

“She makes me so proud.” Emily sort of squeaked to herself, like the enamored fangirl she was.

Lena heard it and giggled, giving her a complicit look. “Your gay is showing, love!”

“As it should, babe. As it should.”

Jeanne and Edgar hugged by their side. He had tears pooling in the side of his eyes, even though he tried to hide it. “She’s going to be okay.”

“She will.” Jeanne nodded. “She’ll love it.”

They were holding the composure like the elegant people they were, but it was clear even for Lena that they were a bit sad as well as happy. She didn’t get why, though.

Luckily, Emily seemed to understand whatever it was. “Amé won't forget you just because she'll be moving here. She loves you greatly and France isn't that far; you can always come for a visit, and she can always go back, too.”

Jeanne started crying, and against all predictions, she hugged Emily. Both Lena and Edgar stared at them with mouths ajar, then giggled at each other as they realized what they were doing. Everything was going to be alright.

 

\--

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter. I'm here to give some Content Warnings for abuse and slurs.
> 
> Sit tight, it'll be a ride.

There were a dozen of aspiring ballet dancers in the room, practicing their moves per the instructions of the experient teacher. The guest ballerina, Amélie Guillard, had been instructed to watch closely and take notes about the student’s performances, providing some insights for them when she deemed necessary The teacher wanted to know how good an eye she had to spot the slight deviations, and how she communicated and dealt with people.

Despite the initial anxiety, Amélie was having a great time. The staff had been really nice and comprehensive to her, and as soon as she entered the training studios, she felt home. It was the third class she watched now, and there was a substantial amount of notes in her notepad. The things she was doing there felt natural and right. It was amazing.

The Terpsichore sitting with her legs crossed on a corner was also having a great time, but her joy was only apparent to the other couple of muses in the room, who were more interested in helping their chosen students. Emily was watching Amélie working without helping this time, first because she was silly and liked to watch her girl and second because she wanted to have the joy of saying it was all Amélie’s doing, with no interference. It was supposed to be her day, after all.

Something sparked on the corner of Emily’s perception and drew her attention like a moth to a flame. She recognized the energetic pattern - if one wanted to be nice about describing it, they could say she was being summoned somewhere; if they wanted to be realistic, though, they’d also say she’d be pulled to that place regardless if she chose to ignore it.

Not really having a choice, Emily let the spell take her comfortably on a three-second ride to what looked like… A small chapel? That was new. With the place lit only by candlelight and the cloudy day outside, she felt like a demon in a horror movie, and it was equal parts funny and amusing. A pity she had really materialized, or it would be perfect.

“Emily.”

She turned - Ana had her good eye set on her, dead serious. She wore a heavy coat and the rifle on her back, and for a moment she looked quite unattached and old.

“You never use my name.” Emily pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know how important it was.” She crossed her arms. “But no more than the things you didn’t tell us, Tepsichore.”

Ah, so that was what the summoning was about.

Emily sighed. Of course she couldn’t get away with everything forever.

“What have you heard…?”  


\--

 

Lena was graffiting a wall with a motorcycle for a store. She was starting to get more jobs again, now that she was really back on track with her art, and she didn’t realize how much she missed having a fairly regular work income. It still didn’t pay that much, but it made her happy, and that was enough for the moment. She really wished Mr. Ogundimu would’ve called her back, though…

Well, it was really no use dwelling in the past. Lena had to think of the future now. She’d be meeting her mother soon! That was really unexpected, she didn’t know what to feel, what she _should_ be feeling…

_Well, you’re a lesbian with two girlfriends, mild brain damage and a weird time-warping aura. Mom will probably faint if you tell her all that._

She cackled dismissively and rolled her eyes. There was no way she was playing life in easy mode, after all.

As if the slight nod to a gaming term invited it, Lena’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Hana. She was quick to put down the paint can, remove the visor and answer it. Did Hana’s father already make the move?

“Hello Han--”

“ _LENA YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS! DAD JUST TOLD ME HE KNEW I LIKE BRIGITTE AND IT’S OKAY!”_

Oh yes, he did. Lena grinned like a happy idiot imagining Hana’s face. “That’s amazing, love!”

“ _HE SAID WE’RE CUTE TOGETHER! LENA I’M GONNA DIE, I’M SO HAPPY!”_

“You can’t die now, you have to tell Brig!” She laughed. “I’m very happy as well, your father is the best!”

Hana giggled and calmed down a bit, snuffling. “ _He said he didn’t know how to tell me it was okay, so he took a while, but he loves me regardless of orientations and sexualities, I cried so much!”_

“You’re still crying.” She poked.

“Y _-yeah, god! I’m just… Happy… We’re going for some ice cream now...”_

“Go enjoy it then! Get a big one, with cookies in it!”

“Okay, I’ll do it!” She laughed “Bye!”

Lena hung up with a smile on her face. She loved seeing her friend happy like that, specially on the queer matters. Nobody should have to suffer the uncertainty of being accepted based on a matter that wasn't their choice, even less other people's business. Hana was lucky to have such nice parents. She wondered if there would come a time when actions like theirs would be the norm, not the exception.

Thoughts like those stayed in Lena's mind throughout the afternoon, and when the job was done she got her bike (she had just recently started riding it again, Amélie was really spoiling her with the cabs all the time) and went for a ride. The exercise would help emptying her head, the wind on the face did her good.

She went through the emptier streets without a care in the world besides not hitting and not being hit by anything, passing by busy people, families, work, cars, pets, problems, difficult decisions… Lena left everything behind and ran. The sun was starting to set when she reached a familiar bridge. She didn’t notice at first, but right as she was exiting it, realization struck and she stopped and turned - that was the bridge Amélie almost jumped from, in an afternoon much like that one.

She went to the exact spot she remembered Amélie was and stroked it lightly with her fingers. It was such an ordinary place, and yet, it held significance… And it was a beautiful twilight. Peaceful. How different would Lena’s life be now, had she not been able to stall Amélie so Emily could arrive and talk to her? She couldn’t really imagine the trauma of seeing someone jumping for their death, or the consequences of such act for people around them.

“Whoever set this all in motion...” Lena whispered to herself. “Thank you.”

There was certainly some time for her to watch the sun and smile.   


\--

 

Amélie was exultant when she arrived at Angela’s house that night, arms crossed with Lena. She spared no detail of her day to the others while they had dinner. It was obvious she saw things through the starry-eyed lens of a newcomer, just as it should be: the teachers, the facilities, the students… Everything was new and exciting, and she couldn’t wait to see more and start working for real. She even declined going out to celebrate, in order to keep her sleeping schedule regular for the next day.

Emily reappeared when they were getting ready to sleep (because of course Amélie made Lena stay the night with her) and unceremoniously laid down between them both, praising Amélie for her day and Lena for her work with the graffiti. There was sadness in her eyes, though, that was undeniable; when the girls asked, she claimed it to be “muse stuff”, and that she just needed to be in their arms for a while to get better.

In the morning she was gone from the bed, but Lena had a post-it attached to her forehead that read _“Psssst, you’re gorgeous =D”_ , and they found Angela and her failing miserably at baking surprise cookies for the girls, so everything was okay, but the culinary crimes perpetrated.

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful:  Amélie arrived home beaming with joy with trying a different role at the Royal Ballet School every day; everybody finally went out for dinner on Wednesday; and finally, there was the prank Emily played on Jeanne Friday night, hours before the couple took their flight back to Paris.

Everybody was settling on the couch to watch a movie after dinner, even Angela. Amélie and Edgar were coming back from the kitchen with bowls full of popcorn and Lena was going through the movie catalog in Netflix, commenting on some titles she had watched before. Suddenly, Emily stood up and clapped her hands together, looking at Jeanne.

“I can’t let you go back to France without showing you some moves I’m working on!” She ran to  Jeanne, eyes glimmering in an electric blue. “Is that okay?”

Amélie and Edgar halted. What was going on?

“I believe it is as good a moment as any other…?” Jeanne replied, slowly.

“Great!” Emily giggled and made an arc with her hand, clicking two fingers - the tv flickered and tuned into an audio-only channel. The raw sound of a distorted electric guitar filled the room, a sultry riff taking place, definitely a song you’d hear at a dubious nightclub.

Emily counted the beats and twirled, sitting on Jeanne’s lap with one fluid motion. Jeanne’s eye’s got wide as plates.

She rolled her hips and belly, tilted backwards.

Put a hand on Jeanne’s shoulder, straightened herself and got face to face with her, within inches of distance.

Jeanne seemed to be so shocked she was unable to react properly. Emily put on her smugiest smile for her.

“I’m not a stripper, mrs. Guillard.” She said, clearly delighted. “Just for your daughter, if she wants.”

Emily winked and got off Jeanne’s lap, snapping her fingers - the tv immediately went back to the Netflix catalogue. Everything was silent for a split second, and then definitely not: Edgar and Lena burst into laughter, Angela took a hand to her mouth, gobsmacked but amused, and Amélie was just screeching variations of “ _Emily, what the fuck!?”_.

Jeanne, seemingly frozen in place, just blinked. It took her a whole moment to put herself together, then look at Emily with a flat expression and say, completely lost: “...That’s way too much information.” And then she blushed furiously.

Amélie didn’t talk to Emily the rest of the night, but it was very worth it.  


\--

 

Despite the previous prank, Jeanne and Emily remained in a relatively nice mood towards each other, mostly because Emily joined her at the backyard after the movie and they talked. Emily told Lena afterwards (and Amélie too, even if she was pretending to not care at the moment) she apologized for not resisting the opportunity to prank Jeanne and explained what she worked with, among other things. She didn’t say what those things were, though.

The Guillards didn’t want Amélie or Angela to accompany them to the airport, claiming it would be an unnecessary nuisance for them. Farewells were traded at Angela’s gate and included tears, laugh, thank yous and promises of visits, both to France and back to England.

It felt a little emptier after they left, but Amélie was grateful. She loved her parents, seeing them made her very happy, specially with everything unfolding as it did, but she felt under less pressure without them around. She could be in control of her life without anything holding her back.

Someone else was starting to feel a lot of pressure by that time, though. Lena was going to meet her mother with Winston in the morning, and she absolutely prohibited her girlfriends from going with them, because Amélie’s first physiotherapy session with the doctors provided by the Royal Ballet would be roughly at the same time. _“You’d better take care of yourself, love, or I’ll smack your nose!”_ were some of her words at the time. They tried to argue Amélie could go alone and Emily with Lena, it was no big deal anymore, but Lena insisted. Truth was, she was scared of letting them see this side of her, the past that could flood through and bring sorrow. She didn’t want them pitying her or cursing at her family. Most of all, she didn’t want to poke the sleeping beast, so to speak. It was too difficult.

Her suffering was apparent, of course, and that was why Emily kissed her forehead and told her she’d be keeping her senses sharp so she could detect if she needed any help, and Amélie informed her she’d call after the physio ended. They made sure to let her know they loved her very much, squeezed her tight in an embrace and followed their way.

Lena headed to Winston’s place afterwards with butterflies in her stomach, but not the good kind.

 

\--  


Besides Lena’s encounter and Amélie’s physiotherapy, there was a third significant event happening that drizzly saturday morning. It took place in one of the richer parts of the city, in what looked like the storage shack of a mansion for rent.

It wasn’t difficult for the cloaked woman to reach that place. Electrified fences and barbed wire were nothing to her - she’d been a sniper for the Egyptian Army, a Protector and a magic user, it was honestly insulting to think a wall with needles and sparkles would hold her back. She simply busted the systems from the outside, opened a window on the wire and climbed the wall with an almost feline agility for someone her age.

Ana was looking at the plain wooden door of the shack when a flash of purple light by her side caught her attention. For someone so stealthy, Sombra surely liked the most visible visual effects when she could use them - she not only materialized in a grid of light but she also had purple pants and sleeves who seemed to glow faintly. It was horrid, Ana was sure not even Lena--

 

No, nevermind.

Lena would use something like that if given the chance.

 

“Heh, surely unremarkable.” Sombra tilted her head towards the door. “Are you ready, _abuelita_?”

Ana side-eyed her. “Let’s go.”

Sombra chuckled and produced a small key from her coat. She opened the door and made an exaggerated flourish signaling Ana to enter. Inside, the place was filled with the sort of junk one would expect in a storage space: There were cardboard crates, old, dusty furniture, seasonal gear and unimportant knick-knacks. For all the effects, it was an ordinary place - Ana didn’t see even an inch of magic.

“What a cute boy” Sombra picked up a small wooden ornament carved in the shape of a dog, and played with it. “I like you. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Are you sure this is the place, Sombra?” She squinted, looking behind a set of ski gear.

“Yeah, it is. You have the papers, right?” Ana took a brown envelope out of her side-purse and extended it to Sombra. She picked it up, took out a bundle of bound papers and started skimming through them “Here it is” She tapped a finger against the sheet. “encryptographed spell. Pretty hightech, if you ask me.

Ana frowned “I don’t feel its energy..”

“Because it’s hidden, _viejita_. It’s like a file protected by password, you know? Wait… You do know how computers work, right? Smartphones?” Sombra raised an eyebrow. It was very difficult to know if she was asking genuinely or just teasing, but Ana was willing to bet on the second option.

“Of course I do. Now do your thing.”

Sombra did her thing alright, just not the one Ana was expecting; she seemed to be reading the papers, but soon Ana’s phone started buzzing in all the weird ways and she had to pick it up, showing an old Nokia fold flip phone. Sombra gasped and burst into laughter, so much she almost knocked down a whole stack of cardboard boxes.

“I can’t believe you still use this _fossil_ as a phone! It doesn’t even have internet!”

“It makes calls, that’s what I use it for.”

“Damn, that’s funny - it fits you. Both are relics of ages past!”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Well, when you’re finished, we still have business to attend to.”

“Oh yeah.” Sombra waved a hand on top of the paper and a sort of holographic keyboard appeared hovering over it. She immediately started typing, and it didn’t take long for her to raise a finger triumphantly. “Done.”

She pointed it to the right, and suddenly Ana felt a burst of magic coming from a lot of sources: aside from Sombra’s sketchy magic, the magic in the papers felt like a seal was broken, reacting with the shack, tearing and constructing, warping reality until an elegant dark mahogany door appeared on the wall in front of them, looking completely out of place.

Ana and Sombra looked at each other, and the elderly woman took the rifle from her back.

 

\--

 

Beyond the door, they found themselves in a very different place: a large, poorly lit room with stone walls, high ceiling and small windows out of reach - it gave the immediate feeling of a medieval dungeon.

That wasn't the only thing worth of note about it, though. There were metal parts, circuits, tools and some nasty brownish substance all over the floor. A big wrecked wooden table rested at the center, three legged, and equally wrecked shelves laid in a pile near the far corner, like something threw them in that general direction with unnatural strength.

Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant place.

“This is _not_ where we were supposed to arrive…” Sombra muttered, eyes scanning the room.

_“That’s because you shouldn’t be peeking around in the first place, deary.”_

It was but a whisper in the back of their minds, but the clarity in which they heard it made the hair on the back of their necks stand. Whoever it was, _it knew._

The door slammed shut behind them. A loud roar was heard and suddenly there were wrecked shelves flying aside as a huge _thing_ dashed in their direction - a bulbous, massive, vaguely humanoid thing, with sickly greenish skin and a face they couldn’t quite make sense of in that poor light. Ana shot in twice, piercing its arm and shoulder, but the creature didn’t seem to pay it any mind. Both Sombra and her had to jump in order to avoid being splattered against the wall.

The creature slammed into the stone, recoiled and shook its head for a second, enough for Ana to put two more shots through its sick flesh, piercing its abdomen and neck this time.

Any natural living creature would've died on the spot after receiving a shot like that to their neck. Ana could see a massive amount of fetid, dark blood pouring out of the injury and glimmering faintly at the light - The creature didn't even look like it acknowledged the damage beyond the force impact.

It turned to Ana with a muffled growl and charged - before it could get to her, though, a volley of machine gun bullets hit its back, making it stumble and fall. Behind it, Sombra had the weapon ready and eyes wide.

It started moving again, trying to get up clumsily. Ana and Sombra exchanged an urgent look - they had to get out of there. Fast.

Sombra started shooting at it again, stalling it, and Ana ran to the door. It was magically sealed shut, but she could dispel it with the right glyphs written on the wood. She searched her pockets for some chalk and started drawing as fast as she could, but those things had to be minuncious, on the risk of sending someone’s head across the Atlantic by accident or some other equally gruesome display. She just hoped they had enough time…  


\--

 

They agreed to meet in a park not too far from Lena’s flat; it was a public space with lots of people walking around, which made it relatively safe, and people tended to mind their own business, so it had an element of privacy as well. The nice view and ducks on the pond also added a nice touch.

Lena and Winston sat on a bench and waited, clearly uncomfortable. She looked at her phone constantly, and time didn’t seem to pass - _10:20, 10:22, 10:24, 10:25_ … Waiting five minutes more was torture, and Lena wanted to run away.

What kept her glued to the bench was resolve, though. She wanted to see that through. She wanted to not have to lay on her bed and think that maybe somewhere, her oppressed sad mother thought of her with love and regret, and wished they could talk. That woman did her a lot of harm, it was true, but a good part of it was due to ignorance and crippling fear, and--

Lena sighed loudly, and tried to calm herself.

Thing was, she still loved her mother and missed her. She was aware she might be sugarcoating her memories not to be as bad as they actually were, but… She just wanted to try.

“Uh… Have I told you about the people I'm having a meeting with after here?” Winston tried distracting Lena, and she gave him a weak smile.

“No… Are they from your lab?”

“No, they're actually from Harvard!” His eyes gleamed with excitement. “You see, my research on energy and dark matter correlations piqued their interest and…”

Lena tried to pay attention to Winston, she really did. He had a tendency to get more technical when he was excited, though, and what started as a well explained talk on his theories quickly turned to a maze of scientific lingo, equations and mind-blowing paradoxes. She couldn't really help spacing out.

Her mind went back to that place of anxiety she tried to push to the corner. What if her mother didn't come or worse, she came and insulted her just like her father used to? What if she had hoped her daughter had changed her rebel (lesbian) ways and Lena had to see the crushing disappointment in her eyes all over again?

Her heart was beating faster, trying to get out of her chest, it seemed. She couldn't really breathe and she found herself to be growing distant from herself at the same she was hiperfocusing. The people walking on the path at some distance, they all seemed to be looking and judging her. Their stares weighted a million boulders on her back, and she'd get crushed any moment.

“..Lena?”

 

That had been a terrible idea.

 

“Winston…!” Lena found his eyes for a brief moment, and she couldn't take it - she jumped to her feet and made a motion to dash out around the bench, but she ended up colliding with someone passing by.

...Or not passing by. Rather, heading their way.

“I’m sorry, I’m very sorry!” Lena gasped and stumbled a bit until she found her footing, and only then she looked at the poor soul she collided with. She found a woman not much taller than herself, with hazel eyes that seemed to have been very expressive in the past, but now were half-lidded and permanently weary of existence. They both had the same lips and jawline, but the woman’s hair was a lighter shade of brown and she wore glasses. Lena was looking at her mother, and both of them seemed to be too shocked to do anything else.

“Lena…” The woman mumbled, raising a hand slowly. “You look beautiful...”

Lena’s stomach performed a backflip at those words. Half of her was still panicked and urging her to run, but now the other half wanted to jump into her mother’s arms… It was all very confusing, and she felt everything starting to slip away...

“Mom.” Was all she could say.

“Oh hello there, Grace.” Winston’s booming voice was heard behind Lena, and suddenly his hand was on her shoulder and his presence was like the anchor he always had been for her. “We were waiting. Is everything alright, Lena?”

She nodded slowly, trying to feel her breath, her limbs, herself.

“Good. Why don’t we all take a seat?”

“That may be a good idea, yes.” Grace looked a bit relieved.

It took a moment, but the shock from the sudden encounter passed enough that Lena didn’t look like a body in a _rigor mortis_ state anymore. She definitely didn’t relax, though - she gripped Winston’s arm hard and sat as close as possible, as if the proximity could provide a better protection. Few words were exchanged then: Grace asked how they were doing and Winston answered everything was going well. Lena stared. No one said anything else, but it was almost palpable that everyone was holding back and possibly choking on unfinished business while in that tense silence.

“I… Found something one of these days.” Grace started, quietly. “I didn’t think I’d get to give it back to you, but…” She opened her purse and took out a small box, and from it a tiny metallic model of an old airplane.

Lena gasped and immediately reached for it. “Where did you find it…? I thought it was gone!”

“It was in that rusty monstrosity of a car.” She rolled her eyes. “It must’ve fallen there on the way to the garage.”

The faint trace of light in Lena’s eyes went off at that mention. Yeah, she remembered her father grabbing all her plane models in a sack and taking them to the garage, to smash them with a sledgehammer. She fidgeted with that tiny survivor, felt its texture, looked at the now chipped and weathered paint. It was still beautiful, even then. “I worked my ass off on that pawn shop for a year to be able to buy the collection. They were expensive, specially for a kid running errands...” She smiled, sadly. “The _Supermarine Spitfire_ , a legend amongst fighter jets - but no, Lena, you can’t be a pilot. You’re a woman, and you won’t fight in the army like a motherless dyke.”

Her voice died down in clear resentment. Grace raised a hand, but let it fall right after - she didn’t know if she should touch her daughter, no matter how much she wanted to hold her. She had to do things right for once in her life.

“I’m sorry.”

“You let him do that.”

Again, silence.  Winston sat by them (on the grass now, as he was too big for the three of them to fit on the bench) and was courteous enough to look away most of the time, but he glanced in their direction after that remark. Both women looked at the floor, deeply hurt. He wanted to do something to make them feel better, but it wasn’t his place.

“Yes. And all the other terrible things too.” Grace finally said.

“Why?” It was more a demand than a question. Lena finally looked at her mother again, and her eyes were sharp like a blade.

Grace closed her eyes. “Because I was bad too. I believed Robert was doing it for the best. One day you’d stop rebelling and everything would be alright, we’d be a family again. The perfect little family I’ve always wanted.”

Lena scoffed. “Oh yeah, like that would ever work out.” Grace didn’t answer, so Lena kept going. “I’d never be whatever he wanted for me, you _knew_ that! Look at me, I’m-- “ She shook her head, wiping out a tear or two that were starting to pool. “I’m _gay_ , mom. I’d never have a man telling me what to do and thank him for it!”

“I was fooling myself to cope with it.” Grace seemed to shrink from the shame. “I know that now.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology? Because I spent countless nights torturing myself over the fact I’d have to present sweet, girly and doll-like while everything I loved made me feel like a dirty sinner!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be, because you know what?! I made it to the fucking RAF. I was their best pilot - I even entered a bloody Spitfire once, and it was the best thing I did after running away from you lot!”

When Lena noticed, she was standing up with tears streaming down her face, fists clenched and a bleeding heart. She wanted so much to hurt everyone right now, to make them know just how painful it was for her, but in the end, she’d just be as bad as her parents were if she did. She _wasn’t_ like them.

“I know.” Grace smiled faintly. “I was so proud of you.”

That made Lena stop for a moment. “What?”

“When you left, I was devastated. Things got really bad for a long while with Robert, and I caught myself starting to see what made you leave... Then he came up with that ridiculous idea of searching for you and throwing you in a reformatory, I called Winston without even thinking about it, and since then, I ask for news from time to time. He told me about the RAF.”

“Oh, right. You two have been talking.” Lena rolled her eyes.

“I know I can’t apologize for the wrongs I did and expect you to forgive me, Lena.”  Grace finally raised her head, and there was a resolve in her eyes that looked very similar to her daughter’s.  “But I thought...I knew of the beating, it appeared in the news. Your father growled - and I remember his disdainful tone very well -  it served you right for being a brat, and I wanted to die when I heard that. Knowing you were badly injured somewhere and I could lose you for good  tore my heart, Lena. Nothing of the things we shamed you about was relevant or true anymore. I just could think of my beautiful, precious girl in a hospital bed hanging between life and death and how cruel I was that I drove her away… I pestered Winston to let me come visit, but he didn’t, he’d rather not risk you being awake and seeing me, it would terrify you. Now tell me, what kind of mother lets her child be terrified of her? I’ve been trying to be better since then, however I could, and... I can only hope to be better to you, if you let me.”

Lena looked conflicted. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looked at Winston, bit her lip. Grace waited patiently.

“We lost so much, mom.” Lena whispered.

She nodded “Do we still have to lose, though?”

“What about father? What would he do to you if he knew you were with me?”

“He’s done enough already.” She tilted her head a bit and Lena could see, for the first time, a messy scar over her brow.

“He hit you?!” She gasped, eyes going wide. “That bloody wanker hit you?!”

“When I asked for divorce.” Grace smirked.

Lena's jaw dropped.

“You asked for _what?!_ ” Winston couldn't help but intrude. “When?”

“About three months ago. I couldn't take it anymore, not when I could see everything that was  wrong.”

“Then he hit you.” Lena repeated, gobsmacked.

“Yes.”

“I'm gonna kill him”

“Wow Lena, no!” Winston gave her a startled look. “The best we can do is let law deal with it!”

The conversation went on with Grace telling them she was at her brother’s house now, and the divorce papers were already sent forward. She didn’t go to the police when Robert hit her, which she regretted, but she was doing everything in her power to stay away from him, and like a sign from heavens that she was going in the right direction, Winston called her last week to ask if she’d like to meet with Lena. She almost fainted, because she never thought something like that would happen willingly on her daughter’s part. Grace had so much to apologize for. So much to make up to her. She couldn’t wait to get started.

Lena eventually passed from absolutely wary to cautiously receptive, and after a good hour she felt a bit more confident in sharing part of her life with her mother. She told her of Ana and how exquisite she was, but also nice and caring in her own way; of Hana, her best friend; of the strange feud McCree and Hanzo had over his restaurants, and how she thought it was all sexual tension and they really needed to bang each other; She told her of the people she loved and cared for her as well, until Gracee came up with a simple question.

“But what about you, Lena? How’s your life going?”

“I, uh…” Lena messed her hair and looked in Winston’s direction. He shrugged slightly. “I used to work in a coffee shop, but now I mostly get jobs doing graffiti. And I got wonderful girlfriends.

She’d been avoiding talking about her life because she feared what would happen when she got to the girlfriends part, mostly. Of all the things that made her parents - okay, more her father - absolutely mad, that was the last straw.

“Girlfriends, plural?” Grace raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah” Lena chuckled, embarrassed. “Amélie and Emily. They’re the most awesome people I’ve ever met, after Winston.”

Winston opened a wide smile and messed with her hair.

“They must be really nice, if they make your eyes spark like that.” Grace replied slowly, as softly as she could. It was obvious she was processing the information (not necessarily well) but she was trying to be supportive, and that was something. Lena would never have thought her mother could even attempt something like that.

“I love them so much. Maybe…” She bit her lip. It was too soon. She couldn’t go trusting everything that quickly, as much as she wanted to. It was sad, but necessary.

“It’s okay, Lena. That they make you happy is enough for me.”

Lena chuckled, disbelieving. “Are you really my mother? Are you sure you weren’t abducted and the aliens imprinted basic human decency in your brain?”

Grace frowned and put a hand over her chest. “Okay… I deserve that for all those years, I suppose.”

Lena shook her head. “Sorry! It’s just… Too good to be true. Damn.”

“I know. I feel the same way, to be honest.”

A loud tune came from Winston’s pocket, startling everyone, and he almost let the phone fall as he picked it up. He excused himself and took a small distance to answer it, in order not to bother the two women with his strong voice, and Lena giggled.

“He’s so important nowadays. He’ll have a meeting with people from Harvard, can you believe it?”

“He was always the most intelligent of us.” Grace chuckled. “You look beautiful with short hair, Lena…”

They kept chatting while Winston was on the phone, and they didn’t notice him getting more frustrated and angry with each word. When he finally came back to them, he looked like he was ready to punch someone, and that was frankly terrifying, given that he was a huge gorilla.

“What’s the matter, Big Guy?” Lena stopped laughing and looked at him, worried.

“Airport problems with the staff from Harvard.” He groaned. “I’ll have to go help them.”

“Oh no, that sucks!”

“Yeah, specially because I’ll have to interrupt and take you home.”

 _Oh_. Oh, she didn’t think about that - Lena looked from Winston to her mother and back, divided. In one hand, it was safer and easier to stand around knowing he had her back. In another, she didn’t really want to leave now. What if she woke up and discovered everything was a dream?

“What about you go and I stay?” She ended up asking.

Winston frowned. “But-- are you sure?”

She looked at her mother. “Yeah, I… It won’t take long. I can call you when I’m going home.”

“Lena.” Winston put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you _really_ sure?”

“Yeah Winston. It’s okay. I can do this.”

He nodded. “Well then, I hope you two have a great time and tell me all about it later!”

With that, he waved and went away. Both women watched his back for some time before resuming conversation.

“Mom.”

“Mm?”

“I missed you.”

Grace chuckled and made a motion to hug her daughter, but Lena backed away and raised her hands to stop her.

“I-- don’t take this wrong. I missed you a lot and I’m happy we’re talking. Relieved even, but it also hurts. It’ll... Take a while.”

She seemed to understand that. She nodded and smiled faintly. “I’m sorry. Take your time.”

“I wanted to stay for a bit more without Winston so I could ask you a thing that would probably flare his temper, and you know how reckless he can be when he gets really angry.” Graced nodded, urging her on. “You changed too much, mom, and I’m willing to bet that wasn’t just because of me. What did that bastard really do to you?”

Grace sighed, her eyes going distant. “He got worse and worse to live with. I think he never quite accepted he let you slip away instead of disciplining you as he wanted, so he started getting more critical and awful with time, and I was fed up. We argued. I said I was going away and he told me to do it, just like my delinquent daughter. I went to the bedroom to get my things and he hit me in the head with his cane - yes, _that_ cane. He said he was going to kill me if I ever tried to leave, because I was his wife in happiness and sorrow, and then he hit me again and again.”

Lena closed her eyes, looking deeply perturbed. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

 

“Why don’t you try it, then?”

 

The voice came from behind them, raspy and stern, and they both could see the terror fill each other’s faces as they recognized it.

“You’re not difficult to track at all, Grace.” Robert Oxton walked very calmly to the other side of the bench so he could face them. He was a man who never really left the military mindset:

his hair was cut in military style, he wore an overcoat and combat shoes, and his famous cane had the army crest inlaid in the handle. That would’ve been enough to discern him as a proud soldier, but in addition, his eyes also carried the veiled steel of cruelty a lot of men and women of war acquired over years of service. “But finding out you came here to see _you,_ Lena Oxton…” He said each word of her name slowly, as if savoring them. “I just had to come and say hello. Well done eluding me all this time, you little shit.”

Lena’s stomach turned at the sound of his voice, his hubris. The old, almost forgotten defense mechanisms kicked in her brain, and the terror that kept her frozen in place turned to a terror that compelled her to aggression - she composed herself and got up to stand between him and her mother, even if she was considerably smaller and skinnier.

“Why don’t you go back to your sad, disgusting hole and leave us alone?!” She snarled.

“Your bad attitude hasn’t changed, I see.” He picked up the cane and tapped it into his other hand.

“Fuck off wanker, I’m warning you…!”

He shook his head. “Such a disgrace. If I’d known you’d turn out this way… You should’ve never been born.” He then turned his attention to Grace. “We’re going back home and you’ll stop this nonsense. It’s gone long enough.”

“I…” Grace babbled, eyes wide.

“She’s not going with you.” Lena interrupted.

“This is not about you, brat. Step aside if you don’t want me to give you the beating you deserved all along.” He squinted, taking a step forward.

Lena didn’t budge, and they locked eyes on each other. Shaking slightly, she tried to hide the fear under a defiant expression. _Fuck, what am I doing?!_ The steel in his eyes seemed to get sharper as he studied her posture. She knew what that meant - she’d be on the floor in a second if he figured out the right place to strike. _Fuck fuck FUCK--!_

When Robert swung the cane, Lena dodged and used his momentum against him, tackling him to the floor. After that came punches and kicks from both sides, rolling into the grass, shouted insults. Both were in the army and knew how to fight; she was nimbler, he was stronger, both wanted to beat the hell out of each other, and things got ugly in a matter of seconds.

Grace screamed for help desperately, and some of the passersby came running in their direction. When they were able to pull them apart, there was blood all over their faces, hands and shirts. Robert had his face looking like it was trampled by a horse, with his nose twisted in a very unnatural position; Lena had a black eye and bleeding cuts on her forehead, lips and cheek, mostly where the jewel on his ring had dragged over the skin. She looked like she was doing better than him overall, except for one tiny detail: She was hit in the head multiple times, and her brain damage didn’t like that one bit.

Everything was spinning and unfocused. Lena could hear the urgent voices of people around and the shouts she knew in her gut were her father’s, but if felt like she was hearing them from underwater. Her limbs were starting to prickle, her tongue felt weird in her mouth, like it wouldn’t fit no matter what, and pain was pulsing just like the beating of her heart. What was going on? She was hitting someone, who took her out of there? Since when lights were this ethereal?

Things settled a bit in her brain and her vision got better enough that she could tell which form was what, and then she saw her father there, fighting to get free from people. She turned and saw her mother crying powerless on the grass, more people gathering around, chaos, insults.

She had to get out of there. She needed, for her life, _to get the fuck out of there._

So, it happened: a sharp pain struck her nervous system, then her senses registered a weird sense of motion, like she was being sucked back by the turbine of an airplane. When she could get a better hold of herself again, she noticed she was standing a good distance back from where the commotion was.

Her mind couldn't really make sense of what just happened, but it didn't matter - it wasn't far away enough yet. She had to run away and never see her father again.

Lena turned and ran. Once again lightning struck her system, the motion came, and she saw herself instantly far away. This time she stumbled and took a glance back, but didn’t stop; she kept running, and whatever was happening to her kept transporting her farther and farther away from everything.  


\--  


It felt like an eternity, but eventually she found herself leaning against the wall on the corridor leading to her flat, gasping for air. It was deserted and silent, but that didn’t stop her from looking around for any sign she was followed, or from expecting Robert to come walking around the corner.

_It’s okay Lena. They were restraining him. He won’t find you again._

God, she was still bleeding. Now even her nose was dripping blood.

_He won’t find you again._

She tried to take a deep breath and center herself. It made her finally acknowledge how much pain she was feeling all over, despite the still high adrenaline, and she whimpered.

_What the hell was I thinking?!_

Lena hid her face in her hands and started crying. She couldn’t just try to make amends, could she? Every time she tried to make things better, disaster ensued. Maybe it really was her fault. Maybe it would really have been better if she’d never been born.

_“I know, I know that! She’s not mine, though!”_

The voice came from the other side of the wall, and was enough to pick Lena’s attention for a split second; then it didn’t matter anymore.

_“How am I supposed to know where she is, mom?! It’s not like I have your-- look, I should really go pick you up.”_

It was Fareeha, and she was angry to a point her voice could be heard from the corridor. The walls weren’t particularly thick, as Lena could attest by the countless times neighbors would come complain about the loud, particular sounds in the night, but even then it was unusual to hear cool and collected Fareeha like that. Something was going on. Lena, of course, didn’t really pay attention to any of that in her despair. She did pick up the next part, though.

_“What do you mean, try Emily? Mom, she’s a muse, not a fighter - she’s not even a healthy one, she’s been killing herself all this time!”_

Lena stopped and uncovered her face. What was that she just heard…?!

_“ ...No. Really, no. What if it’s the last straw and it kills her for good? If what you say is true, she’s almost at the end, no?”_

 

Emily was dying? No… She was killing herself?! No, that couldn’t be true. That _couldn’t_ be true!

 

Lena searched her pockets for her phone and dialed Amélie’s number furiously through the tears. She needed to talk to Emily. _Now._

“ _Hello?”_

“A-Amé?” Lena’s voice faltered. “This is Lena.”

_“Oh hi chérie! Are you okay? Your voice sounds funny.”_

“Yes, don’t-- I need to talk to Em. It’s a bit urgent.” She chuckled, nervous.

There was a pause on the other side of the line.

“Amé…?”

_“She can’t talk right now, chérie, she’s getting out of one of those episodes again.”_

Lena’s stomach dropped. “Episodes?”

“ _Yes, you know, sensory overload. I’ll tell her to call you when she’s feeling better, okay?”_

There was a gasp and choking sound.

“Lena?”

Silence.

“Lena?!”

The call was dropped.  


\--  


She didn’t really know where she ran to this time. Through the haze, pain, tears and despair, she just ended up in that scrapyard, with no one around her.

_Emily was really dying, then. That was what the sensory overload was about._

Lena was a wreck. She walked to one pile of scrap with her legs shaking, started digging through it and took out a broken, rusted part of an iron gate. She hurled it against rest ofthe pile with a scream.

_She never told them. Why did she never told them?!_

She hit again, and when it collapsed, she ran to another pile and started breaking the remaining glass in a semi-melted vending machine.

_What would she do now? What could she possibly do about it?_

When the gate part bent and broke, Lena looked for something else. Kicked tires, threw glass bottles. She felt just like she did when Sombra first met her - She wanted to die. More than that, she wanted everyone else to die.

_She was stupid. She couldn’t even make proper amends with her mother! She couldn’t even defend her properly!_

When she ran out of things to throw, she started punching with her hands, and the pain it brought just made her punch harder, out of rage.

_She was wrong, a mistake, she should never have been born in the first place._

Lena missed a punch and tripped, going right to the floor. With her face in the dirt, her body aching, heart broken and mind exploding, the anger faded into a deep sadness. She didn’t make a move to get up. She didn’t even make an effort to shift from the uncomfortable position she fell in.

_She should die. She really should die._

“Oh, you poor thing.” A sweet, strangely foreign but unknown voice broke the silence. “So sad and broken… Do you wish to make it all go away?”

Lena slowly raised her eyes to the figure in front of her. It was difficult to discern them, standing against the sun as they were.

They extended their hand towards her, and a bit of warmth caressed Lena’s face.

“I can make it all go away.”  


\--  


“What happened, Amé…?” Emily’s voice was a bit louder than a whisper and she couldn’t really focus her gaze, but even then she was trying to keep up.

“Lena dropped the call and now she’s not answering the phone.” Amélie replied.

“Shit.”

They were sitting at a bus stop some steps away from the physiotherapy clinic. About half an hour before they were exiting the place, Amélie was ready to call and check on Lena, then Emily had a sensory overload. It was taking longer than normal to subside, but despite Amélie’s attempts, she didn’t want to be carried to a hospital or go back inside.

“How are you doing right now?” Amélie asked, pacing around.

“Not great, to be honest.” Emily opened a weak smile. “I should go see her…”

“Absolutely not.” Amélie frowned. “I’ll keep calling.”

Emily nodded, vaguely aware. Eventually, the persistence bore fruit and someone answered.

_“Hell--”_

“LENA WHAT HAPPENED, WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSWER THE PHONE?!”

“I, uh… I’m not Lena.” Amélie’s eyes went wide at that. “I just found her phone on the floor, on the corridor. Fareeha here.”

“Fareeha.” Amélie clicked her tongue.”Something might’ve happened to her.” Emily perked up from her seat, trying to pay attention, but by the Nine was it difficult in her state. “She dropped a call, I kept calling with no answer, then you found the phone…”

Fareeha cursed something in Egyptian under her breath. “I need to find my mother. She’ll be able to-- is Emily there with you?”

Amélie glanced at her girlfriend. “Yes, but she’s not feeling very well.”

“She has a bond with Lena that let’s her track her, much like my mother does. Can you ask her to try?”

“I will. Hang on.” She went to Emily and sat by her side. “Em, we need you to find Lena right now.”

“I told you I should do it.” She grinned.

“Sure, but it’s serious now. Can you tell where she is?”

Emily nodded and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Where, in the middle of that internal mess, was that echo-y thread of neon light? She navigated her mindspace like a castaway in the middle of a seastorm, but still determined to reach their goal. Waves of raw emotion hit her and sent her perception spiralling back to the depths but she surfaced again, even with her senses trying to drown her, even being so tired. Where was Lena?

“I think I found a faint trace of her energy” She got up, helped by Amélie. “We should go east.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I’m not strong enough to reach all the way yet. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Amélie said softly, then focused back on the phone. “Fareeha…”

Emily dove into the storm with her full attention again. Lena’s energy was highly unstable from what she could notice. She was probably having some sort of breakdown, and it was terrible - maybe Emily should dematerialize and phase by her side, but if she was honest, in her current state she didn’t know if she’d be able to come back to the mortal realm as she wanted. No, she had to pinpoint a location; she swam further in, chasing that tiny beacon she found, and while she was getting alarmingly tired, it was also getting clearer where Lena was, and in the company of whom…

Emily halted.

She _knew_ that energy beside’s Lena’s. It was the same that appeared right before--

The thought hanged unfinished in the air as Emily completely lost her train of thought. Something snapped inside her. Something vital and inherently hers.

At the same time, the exquisite lighthouse that was Lena Oxton completely faded away from her perception, followed by everything else.  


\--  


When she came to consciousness, everything was too loud, too hard, too much. Her heart beat loud and oppressive in her ears, her stomach twisted, the floor against her back was too hard and cold, but the thing that hurt her the most was the incessant chatter all around her. People were definitely arguing, but it sounded like they were doing it on megaphones. It was insane.

 _“You don’t understand it, your idiot!”_ She heard someone say, and that was enough; She opened her eyes wide. What was going on?!

At least a dozen faces stopped their fight and looked at her, tense, fearful and surprised. She barely registered them, as it wasn’t important; the most pressing matter was what was missing there. She couldn’t see the juxtaposition between the physical and spiritual world.

“...Look at our delightful Icarus.” A very interested Moira came forth, an unsettling grin in her face. “She’s human.”

  


\--


	33. Chapter 33

There was a girl who lived in a odd corner of London. She had shining brown eyes and a heart like a shining bird; When cages threatened to silence her song she took off in the wind, flying far away from the chains of a miserable existence, and into the light. 

She was free, and in her freedom she shone - wherever she went she left laughter, a silly joke, a comforting word. Such a beautiful soul she had, it stood like a beacon amongst the drained and hopeless. A phoenix, bringing the sun through the dark sky.

She saw the best in people, gave them love, mended their injuries, helped them back on track. She thought she was nothing special, just like a million of others living their broken lives. No powers, no supernatural heritages, no prophecies or honorable quests. 

 

As if worth was determined by any of those things…   
  


Her name was Lena Oxton. She liked planes and sweet things, and she couldn’t dance if her life depended on it. She gave herself away believing it would be for the best, that her absence wouldn’t be a great loss compared to the gains it would bring.

 

Would things have been different, had she known?

 

Her kindness was a strength, not a weakness;

Her empathy was a blessing, not a curse;

Her scars were marks of survival, not of a broken mind;

Her love was the greatest thing she owned, even though she didn’t love herself.

 

Now the storm raged above the castaways, with no light to guide them to safe harbors anymore. Their beacon was gone.

Their amazing girl was gone…   
  


\--   
  


“Where is Lena…?” Emily whispered, but barely heard her own voice over the raging argument, one that resumed with full force right after Moira’s words.  _ She’s human… _ Emily didn’t understand. Her head was spinning. She’d been doing something important before. What was it?

“We don’t know.” 

She turned towards the voice - it was Amélie by her side, holding her hand. Her vision could be blurred and distorted, but Emily was pretty sure that at this point, she could discern her girl even underwater.

“Hold still, Emily. I’ll make the haze go away.” Focused as she was trying to be, Emily got really startled when she heard Moira's voice clear by her ear. She'd been standing in front her, how come she had moved so quickly? Before questions could be made, though, the witch pressed one hand to her forehead and the other below her diaphragm, muttering some words. The strange augmented sensations that overtook her gradually subdued. “How do you feel?”

Emily coughed and gasped, then blinked a bit to adjust her vision. “Much better, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, dear. We need you conscious and well for the questions.” Moira offered her a predatory smile, tapped her arm and got up. As soon as she did that, Amélie got closer and cupped Emily’s face, focused on her eyes. They were brown and dull, almost lifeless.

“God, Emily, I was so scared!” Amélie leg go of her face to give her a delicate hug.

“What happened?”

“You fainted, then started spasming--”

_ Enough, all of you. _

A disembodied voice echoed through the chamber, soft but firm, and people stopped arguing again. With that, Emily could really focus on them for the first time, and realize they were mostly know faces - people with a higher stand on the House of Terpsichore, and more specifically, all people she previously fought with about her behaviours.

Her attention didn’t remain on them for much longer, though, as a cloud of golden light appeared in the middle of the room. The terpsichores around the place immediately rushed to a take a bow, bumping into each other, while Moira stared at them with an amused, clearly prepotent smile. 

A person emerged from the light: a beautiful black woman with cornrows ending in an afro, full lips painted gold and clever eyes of a pale hazel that currently burned like lava at the center. She emanated a faint glow, and the room was filled with a sort of static in her presence, like one would feel if a deep bass frequency was blasted - only with no sound. It was raw power; they were undoubtedly before some higher being, and from everyone’s behaviour, Amélie could definitely guess which one.

The woman looked around slowly, taking in the details of the room and everyone in it, and eventually set her eyes at the laying figure of Emily with Amélie by her side. Her irises flashed for a second, completely taken by the liquid fire, and then went back to their previous state. She took a couple of steps in their direction, bare feet touching the floor softly, the light fabric of her tunic slithering behind and around her like it had a mind of its own.

Emily held her breath and tried to sit down, to look more presentable than a recently-fainted weak woman, but she was far too tired for that - so much that the woman raised a hand and she stopped on her tracks, half laying in Amélie’s lap at this point. 

“Higher Muse.” She lowered her head respectfully, the only time Amélie saw her being so courteous towards her kind.

The woman stared. “Emily. What’s happened to you?” Then she turned to Moira, who promptly took a step forward, priming herself.

“My Muse, it’s really exquisite work. I was lucky to arrive while it was still taking place, and I can tell you up front: no ordinary spirit” - and she glanced in Emily’s direction - “could have done it. In fact, not even a fairly experienced mage. What we’re looking at here is undoubtedly in the tier of the changebringers.”

“Changebringers?” Amélie mumbled,  looking from one to the other and then to Emily, the only one of the three who seemed to be as out of the loop as her.

“Yes, my dear. Changebringers. Some poor, foolish girl must´ve made a pact…”  Moira’s smile widened.

Emily felt like she was being dragged down a hole by the guts, as she remembered the last things she saw before fainting.

_ Oh no…! _

It wasn’t difficult for Amélie to guess who Moira was talking about, especially when Emily looked like she was going to have a stroke. “What did Lena do?!”

“I can’t possibly know.” Moira chuckled. “She certainly didn’t make a deal with me _.” _

“I felt her fading away.” Emily whispered. “I… There was someone there, and her energy dissipated before I blacked out…”

“You see?” Moira gestured towards her, amused. “Gone. Likely fuel for this ingenious venture.”

 

_ Gone.  _ The word echoed on Emily’s brain.

_ No... NO! _   
  


“She can't be gone!” Emily wailed. “I just - there must be some mistake, if I was human I wouldn't be seeing you all--!”

“Oh, that's me.” Moira interrupted, snapping her fingers - all the terpsichores but the Higher One vanished from view. She snapped them again and they were back in place like they never left. “It's simple work, really. They wanted to be able to interrogate you, despite your now inept vision.”

“No, that--!”

“Do you have a reliable way to know if Lena is really dead?” Amélie said, uncharacteristically cold; she had straightened herself, and the look in her eyes resembled her mother’s when dealing with a particularly unpleasant situation.

Moira raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, Guillard, I do. But I never said she was dead.” She made a flourish with her hand - in front of it appeared what looked like a thread made of blue light floating into space, twitching, turning, dissipating and reforming, glitching and bisecting like a tv with a poor signal reception.

“What is that supposed to be?” Amélie frowned.

Moira tilted her head slightly, smiling, and made another gesture: two more threads appeared, one, white with an iridescent glow, was weirdly short; the other one was long and glittered with a lavender glow, and a part near the top was almost severed.

“Witness your mortal lives before your eyes, Guillard. This one is yours.” she ran a finger through the lavender thread, stopping at the fragile part, tugging at it teasingly. Amélie felt an unease within her chest and clenched her teeth, glaring at Moira. “This one is Emily's, so short, barely an hour old…” She poked at the tiny thing and Emily gasped. “And this mess is Oxton's - not severed, but can you really say this is alive?” She passed her fingers through it - they ran through effortlessly, dragging a bit of the glowing mist with them for a moment before it reformed into the thread and started distorting on itself.

“It’s not severed” Amélie repeated, trying to process everything in her mind. If those threads symbolized their lives, then Moira was one of the three old women from the tales, the Fates. A year before she would’ve scoffed at this possibility, but now that she had a muse girlfriend and she stood in front of what was essentially a greek deity, it tended to change one’s mind. “so she’s not dead.”

“Oh no she’s not. But if the state of the thread is any indicator, she may be experiencing a kind of damnation worthy of the Tartarus.” Moira sounded excited, gleeful even.

Emily gasped like she was choking. “How do we bring her back?!”

The Higher Muse raised her hand and the three of them fell silent, despite having so much to talk about. That was why the terpsichores in the back were so silent - it was all a spell.

“Before you discuss the lover’s fate further” She started in her soft voice, looking around. “There’s a different reason we are here at this moment.”

Emily clenched her teeth. She didn't want to hear of reasons, she didn't give a damn about the people there if they wouldn't help her - the most pressing matter at hand was getting Lena back from whatever happened, and safely.

“Your pact with Moira was broken, and even though it was not by your direct action, Emily, the terms of your allowance in this mortal world still apply: your task is over. You’re to be judged on your deeds and actions here before anything else.”

Amélie was sure Emily would be cursing everyone if she was allowed to talk. 

“We’d normally move to a courtroom for this, but given the unique situation we are in, we'll have to improvise.”

The Higher Muse started making a series of complex hand gestures, but it was only when she took timed steps around the room that Amélie properly registered she was dancing - and with every step, magic took hold of the room. A twirl and the walls dissipated into golden dust; a twitch and the linoleum changed into cobblestone; when she finished, they were all standing in the middle of a plaza circled by greek columns very well known by the muses. Lastly, she dropped her previous spell, and there was a collective gasp as the ability to talk was restored to everyone.

“We're at the Houses!” Emily gasped. “How are we at the Houses?!”

If she was still a muse, she'd know - she'd see the energy pattern or the overlap between the planes, or whatever it was that just happened - but now she couldn't. Her vision was only made for the material, her body overloaded her with a lot of unknown sensations in organs she either wasn't supposed to have, didn't have before, or simply didn't notice, her brain - her  _ brain! -  _ was a mess. She was human.

_ She was human! _

“Take your places.” The Higher Muse said, taking Emily partially out of her growing panic.

As the muses moved to figure out their places, Amélie noticed they weren't the only ones around: there were others beyond the columns, starting to realize something was about to happen there, approaching criously..

It was going to be a public trial.

She felt her heart tighten more than it already was. Emily was absolutely not well, mentally and physically, and she'd be judged in those conditions!

Amélie put a hand on her shoulder, drawing attention to herself. Emily was trying to keep her expression neutral and strong, but as soon as her dull eyes found Amélie's, it ruined - she was terrified. 

Amélie hugged her. “It'll be okay. We'll push through this.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” She pulled back,  cupped her cheek and made her look at her again. She had to make sure the message came across.

Emily gave her the sad smile of someone who knows too much. “You’ll see.”

Amélie still held her close, with no intention of letting go.   
  


\--   
  


_ Inspire people around you; _

_ Bring no harm; _

_ Do not talk of your nature unless strictly necessary; _

_ Make sure your actions are in the best interest of your task. _

 

These were the rules the Higher Muse imposed on Emily when she agreed on letting her go to the mortal plane in order to meet Amélie Guillard. 

These were the words the accusing party used to open their case, and it brought a sour taste to Emily’s mouth. Even if those guidelines weren’t private, the talks after were; it was like they were invading the privacy she wasn’t really supposed to have as a terpsichore to taunt her, and it was working.

“How well do you think you followed these words, terpsichore?” The accusing muse paced around, eyes locked on Emily.

She made a move to answer, but Amélie held her by the arm and glared until she let the question go. 

“We think you did a terrible job.”

There was a murmur of approval from the people watching from the sides, and Emily clenched her teeth. Between the rampant anger and the dread, Amélie feared she'd snap under all those eyes. What was the Higher Muse thinking, taking them there? From all the things Emily said about her, she looked better than that. Was she just waiting for the right moment to make an example out of her?

“That's enough.” The judge said. “Your job is to tell me of her transgressions, do so.”

The judge was a woman, but not a muse. The Higher One called one of the _ Horae _ to preside over the trial as an impartial judge, and there could be no better choice - Dike she was a spirit of justice as old and powerful as the original muses. Having her there meant there was a chance they'd see Emily wasn't all that bad as they painted her, but at the same time, it signaled how important that whole thing seemed to be.

“Yes, yes, of course your honor.” The accusing muse cleared their throat. “This terpsichore has openly talked of our existence to humans for the sake of ease rather than necessity; She’s largely ignored the advices of her superiors” The muse gestured towards some the nearby spectators. “and acted as if she was entitled to a human existence, spending a great part of her limited time courting not one, but two--”

“Oh go f--!” Emily growled.

“Emily!” Amélie glared. “Don’t!”

“--mortals, one of them the woman she was supposed to  _ help _ , in clear transgression of our involvement laws.”

“Which involvement laws?” Amélie whispered to Emily.

“The ones that specify we shouldn’t form bonds with mortals.” She replied absentmindedly, eyes darting around. There were so many people gathering there… A show, it was. A spectacle made of her probable demise. It was sickening.

“She has repeatedly caused turmoil by spreading her disruptive ideas to other muses, getting into fights, gathering followers.”

Emily just had to laugh at that. “What are you on about? Am I establishing a cult, because I’d love to actually know about it, give it a proper name and communication codes, you know how it is.”

Dike hammered down the gavel. “Silence.”

“What, can’t I even defend myself? Might as well lock me up already!” Emily got up and would’ve walked to the judge if Amélie hadn’t held her in time, but she still directed her an angry stare.

“You will have your time, terpsichore.” Dike simply replied. 

“I have a  _ name _ .”

“Oh yes, indeed!” The accusing muse saw the opportunity and jumped back in, this time turning to the crowd watching beyond the columns. “Witness her own confession: she’s named herself. A Muse with a name, everyone!”

“ _ Proudly.” _ Emily snarled.

Amélie knew virtually nothing of the muse society. Even what Emily told her wasn’t that much, so she didn’t understand why the crowd seemed to boom with hushed surprise and indignation at the simple mention of a name. Whatever importance it had, the reaction seemed to make Emily angrier - she looked at the people around with a sharp, murderous stare. That wasn’t going well at all.

“How arrogant of you to put yourself above your nature, terpsichore!” The accusing muse approached. “Is this how much you wanted to be a human? Seems like your wish came true, too bad it seemingly was at the expense of a human girl, no?”

Amélie reached to her too late - Emily was already hurling her fist at the man when she held her, and it would’ve certainly hit him in the nose, had the image not undulated and dissipated around her fist for a moment before reforming itself. 

Moira, sitting by the Higher Muse, laughed in amusement.

The muse looked startled, then utterly offended as he took some steps back; Emily looked ready to lunge at him mindlessly, despite the evidence it was impossible. When Amélie was finally able restrain her, she growled and tried to break free in a first moment; however, taking a glance back and seeing Amélie there, startled, a bit scared and visibly exhausted, Emily completely lost the urge to fight. She sucked up the tears and held her breath for a moment, then she hugged Amélie softly with one arm.

“H-How barbaric!” The man squeaked, trying to compose himself.

“Barbaric?” Emily laughed darkly. “Of course, nevermind the fact you just said it served me right to have Lena taken like it was my  _ fucking choice! _ Like we’re not wasting time here when you’re clearly gonna convict me anyway, despite the fact we could be using this  _ fucking time _ to bring her back!”

Dike, seeing things get out of hand, stood up and stared directly at Emily, her eyes flashing with magic. “Control yourself.”

Emily felt her muscles heavy, like the weight of the world was three times heavier on her shoulders. It was even difficult to open her mouth and talk at that point, but it only made her want to do it more, out of spite.

“Oh no, you fucking won’t…!” She laughed in a somewhat strangled way. “All you guys do is… restrain… and rebuke… You  _ won’t! _ ” 

Emily did her best to stand as straight as she could, and there was a moment she thought she was going to fall face first on the floor with the sheer force she was exerting against the spell, but oh no, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. There was ringing in her ears, a snap, and the force going against her dissipated - maybe by her stubbornness, maybe by Dike releasing her hold, she couldn’t know. She stumbled and Amélie helped her right herself.

The Higher Muse smiled discreetly on her seat.

“It’s my time to talk right now!” Emily continued, finally getting all the rage, the fear, the frustration boiling inside her out in a spiteful roar. “You paint me as this corruptor ready to destroy everything you hold dear and I take it, you disdain me and I couldn’t care less, but I won't let you twist this up as if I planned it!” She felt Amélie's grasp tighten on her waist and shoulder. It was okay. Somehow, it was even ground to know she was there, holding her. “I went to the fucking mortal plane in order to help! Just a servant, ready to lay down my life in order to keep what was important” Her eyes darted to Amélie for a second and she put a hand over hers. “but then I got to spend time with them, Amélie and Lena. They treated me like an equal. They loved me, a tool meant to assist them, and by the Nine, how can I even begin to explain what it's like to matter to someone like this? How it is to be important? So you say I wanted to be human and I tell you it's quite true, because it would make me stay with them, but in reality it didn't matter that much; because these two amazing women loved who I am,  _ what _ I am, and that was enough. I love being a terpsichore. I also love being  _ their _ terpsichore. This is why I did what I did, and punched anyone who would insult them. When I went to their plane I was ready to die if needed. Now, after all we've been through, the amazing times with amazing people, the endless love and pain and the whole range of emotions painting their lives all sorts of colors... I am ready to live.” Emily stopped and looked around, exhausted but clearly determined. She finished her speech in a quieter, but not less determined note: “So do whatever you decide to me. Lock me up. Strap me to a rock and have a bird eat my eyes. Make me go up a hill with a rock resting on my back - I will happily oblige, but first I will take this human body you’re so horrified by, this soul you don’t think I actually have, and I will go find Lena wherever she is and bring her back home, because nothing of this was her fault. That’s all.”

She looked at Dike, then at the Higher Muse and Moira, and went back to her seat with Amélie holding her hand. Everyone was silent. Some with wide eyes, others with tense expressions, some clearly uncomfortable in their positions. 

Dike took a deep, pained breath and sat down as well. The accusing party made a collective motion to start talking again, but she raised a hand to stop them.

“I believe we’ve heard enough.” She said finally, shifting on her seat. “First and foremost, gracious Terpsichore has been filling me in this particular affair for a long time.” She gestured towards the Higher Muse, who nodded slightly. “I see three real transgressions to your laws here: A break of secrecy, with the disregard for maintaining her nature a secret; the deep involvement with a group of human people, more prominent with her two girlfriends; and collateral damage brought to the human woman named Lena Oxton as a result of her learning about the real condition of her permanence in the mortal plane. The rest of the accusations are based on established conventions and opinions, and do not belong in this particular trial. Now Emily, do you know why the involvement laws exist in the first place? To prevent things just like what happened to miss Oxton, and that were far too common when spirits roamed around doing whatever they saw fit.”

Emily nodded weakly. She wasn’t going to fight anymore. Amélie, however, raised a hand. “Your honor, if I may?”

Dike frowned. “Yes?”

“Emily didn’t run around doing whatever all the time. She helped me recover and get to the Ballet again. If I’m happy now, it’s on her… It was her primary mission, wasn’t it? And she succeeded. It’s not fair to pin the wrong of the world on her.”

“Amé…” Emily started, but her voice died down.

“It’s still a fact that if she wasn’t there, Miss Oxton’s fate would’ve been different.”

“If she wasn’t there, I’d be dead, that’s also a fact.” Amélie raised an eyebrow. “She did so much good there with us. Does that even matter to you, or anyone here?”

“You can be sure these things didn’t go unnoticed, miss Guillard.” Terpsichore herself replied, her eyes warm towards Amélie.

Dike hammered the gavel down. “We will now take a moment to discuss matters, and be back shortly.”

Both the Higher Muse and Dike.disappeared in thin air. Moira reclined in her chair, deeply satisfied with herself, and people around engaged in all sorts of gossip with the same enthusiasm as if they were betting on who would win a reality show.

Emily closed her eyes and let her head fall on Amélie’s shoulder. “It was my fault, Amé. You can’t deny that.”

“”You didn’t force Lena to do anything.”

“But I was the reason she did it.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t even know what she’s done, if it’s really a pact, and with who.” Amélie ran fingers through her hair slowly, trying to bring some comfort.

“It must’ve been a pact. There was someone there and I saw her energy dissipate, then I blacked out and was suddenly human. What else could’ve done this? We’ve got to find her.”

“We will. I promise you.”

It took about ten minutes for Terpsichore and Dike to reappear, but it might as well have been hours, as far as Amélie and Emily were concerned.

“We’ve come to an agreement, but before, I have some words of my own to direct you, my children.” The highers muse gestured towards the crowd and got down from her spot at the judge stand, walking on the space between it and the seats where Emily and Amélie were. “As you’re well aware, I try not to interfere in your society, focusing on distributing my gifts throughout the world, bringing in the stray newborn muses, and watching. My dears, you’ve come so far! You did great things, organized, made rules of your own. That’s commendable, and I’m proud of you for doing so. However, I feel it’s time I gave you an insight.” She stopped right in front of Emily and gave her a smile before turning back to the others. “I appreciate all of you taking my name as a mantle. What an honor it is to have a legion of spirits united to bestow our gifts! However, I don't see an -afronta- in you taking names of your own, and never did. You're born of my vital force, but you're not an extension of my own. You should celebrate this uniqueness, my dear terpsichores. It’s time I told you so.”

The looks of surprise everywhere would've made Emily laugh if she wasn't gobsmacked herself. A whole lot of the fighting she constantly had with people was over her name. They didn't need one, they could identify each other by their energy signature, but it felt as good to her to have one, as an offense to the others. If they'd known the Higher Muse's opinion before, how many fights would've been avoided? How much would things be different?

“Now for you, Emily.” Terpsichore turned back to her and kneeled, so she wouldn't need to get up. Some people gasped at this - the Higher Muse, kneeling for a transgressor?! - but she didn't seem to mind at all. “Congratulations.” She smiled. “Look at beautiful Amélie Guillard, back in style. You did a great job helping her, and Miss Guillard, you did a great job coming back to us. I look forward to see you training those young dancers, and to seeing you dance yourself.”

“Thank you.” Amélie was surprised to hear all that. “I'll do my best.”

“You always do,” She smirked.

“Back to the main issue.” Dike had her arms crossed and a somewhat exasperated look. “We’ve come to a conclusion. Terpsichore named Emily, you are to be locked and bound to a physical container of the Higher Muse’s choosing, staying in the mortal plane as you so wished, but unable to follow your vain wishes.”

Emily’s stomach dropped, and despite all, she smiled. That was something to do when all was lost, she supposed. “The greek and their sense of irony.”

Terpsichore got up. “Your words haven’t fallen on deaf ears, though. I’ll allow you to search and bring back your lover before your punishment. I’ll be watching.”

Despite everything going to hell, that was a tiny light on the dark horizons. Emily was ready to thank them for their mercy on that matter, but Amélie got up before she could, and she looked lively.

“What sort of punishment is this?! Going to jail is a punishment - this is outright torture!” She argued, looking from Dike to Terpsichore.

“Oh, dear.” Moira, quiet and delighted on her corner, decided to intervene. “You’re not aware of how this pantheon’s punishments work, are you?” She chuckled. “You’re lucky she wasn’t cursed to kill all she held dear with a heightened perception of every gruesome detail.”

“But--”

“Amélie, no.” Emily sighed. “Where should we start looking for Lena?”

“Moira?” Terpsichore turned to her.

“I don’t have a clue.” She smiled amusedly, making a gesture for that odd, dissonant thread that was Lena’s life to appear on the palm of her hand. “But the one who provides the thread might know. She does weave reality, after all.”

Emily stopped to consider, then nodded. “Arakhne.” Moira’s smile widened. “Very well.”

“There you have it, my child.” Terpsichore gave them a sorry, quite cryptic look. “I wish you luck.”

With that, Moira snapped her fingers and the people, the cobblestone plaza and even the goddesses went away. Amélie and Emily saw themselves back at the empty room  Moira previously transported them to, and the silence was somewhat oppressing on their ears.

They looked at each other, and Emily fell in Amélie’s arms, crying.   
  


\--

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Muses won't have names
> 
> Also me: Why did I do this to myself, it's terrible to write! (it's got a very nice narrative reason tho, so it's all good)
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to Nox for taking a look at this chapter, I was very anxious about it! Also Yumiru, always the best girl <3


End file.
